


Inmate, For Real

by Vanalosswen



Series: Beneath The Mask [3]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Abuse of a minor by a cop, And now he's alone, Big Bang Challenge, But he's been through a lot, Canon Compliant, Cruel and unusual punishment, Depression, F/M, Makoto is also a badass, Nightmares, PTSD, Ren is kind of a badass, Teenager in Solitary Confinement, prison time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanalosswen/pseuds/Vanalosswen
Summary: After killing the god of control, the Phantom Thieves thought life would return to some semblance of normal again. They thought they would have time to rest, heal and adjust to being normal teenagers again while preparing to take their final examinations. But fate had one more obstacle to throw in their way, and the Thieves find themselves fighting once again: Ren for his sanity in a solitary confinement cell, and the rest of the team for the freedom of their leader. Shattered by the sudden loss of her boyfriend, Makoto throws herself into the job of keeping the Thieves focused on getting him free. Cut off from his allies and resources, can Ren find enough hope to cling to while waiting for freedom?





	1. Chapter One

Kaito Watanabe was at his family’s home when the news broke: the leader of the Phantom Thieves had turned himself in, and was being held due to breaking his probation.

The family was gathered in the sitting room, watching the nightly news and talking quietly amongst themselves, but all conversation stopped when that announcement filled the screen. Kaito had seen the announcement the night the Thieves took over the airwaves in Tokyo, but of course, they’d all been in masks and strange clothes. Now, he leaned forward eagerly as they showed the young man’s mug shot.

 _Young_ was exactly the right word. If he was a day over eighteen, Kaito would personally eat his shoe, without salt. He recognized the grey eyes that had flashed from underneath the mask when the leader spoke during the announcement, but they looked different in the mug shot. Tired, with a hint of fear.

 _‘Good,’_ Kaito thought grimly. _‘You should be afraid. You’re about to pay for everything you did.’_

He worked for the prison system, and he and his fellow wardens often discussed what sort of things they’d do, or allow to happen, to the group known as the Phantom Thieves. After murdering Okumura and that principal fellow, they deserved everything the law could throw at them.

Kaito’s phone beeped, and he glanced at it with a frown. “Oh, _hell_ ,” he exclaimed, dropping the phone on the floor as he covered his face with both hands.

“Kaito!” his mother scolded. “Not in front of your grandmother!”

“Sorry, Jiji,” Kaito mumbled, glancing at his grandmother. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to have heard his outburst. She didn’t hear much of anything these days. He sighed, rubbing his face.

“What’s wrong?” his sister Akane asked as she scooped his phone up and stuck it in his blazer breast pocket.

“That little brat is in _my_ prison,” Kaito said with a gusty sigh.

Akane perked up. “Really? You’re going to be guarding the leader of the _Phantom Thieves_?”

Too late, he remembered that his little sister was a fan of the criminal group. She’d often sighed in disappointment that they probably attended Shujin Academy, instead of Kosei High School where she attended school. He’d dismissed the idea wholesale at the time because she was only sixteen, and the notorious Phantom Thieves couldn’t possibly be her age. But he remembered the narrow, angular face, and the grey eyes under the mop of black hair. It seemed far more likely that he _was_ a high school student. That added a whole new twist to the already-knotty mess, because they didn’t usually house minors. Apparently, someone had decided that this kid needed to be held in a high-security location.

“Work tomorrow is going to be _fun_ ,” he grumbled.

“Could I come meet him?” Akane pleaded, batting her big eyes at him.

“It’s a _prison_ , not a day camp, of course not!”

Akane pouted, slouching back in her chair. “God, you’re so rude,” she muttered, kicking her toes at the edge of the area rug. She pulled her phone out and started typing rapidly.

Kaito decided to leave her to it as he stared moodily at the television screen. The news had moved on to another story – something about the results of the election with Shido out with a mental breakdown – but he couldn’t focus on anything else. Not when he knew what sort of shitstorm he was going to be walking into the next day.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next morning was grimy and cold, which was fitting for the post-holiday slump. Kaito walked into work, his hands jammed in his pockets as he passed the clusters of people gathered around the entrance. There were more of them than usual, which he registered absently but didn’t pay much attention to. He hadn’t slept well the night before; he kept dreaming about those grey eyes under a bone white mask, staring into his soul. It was ridiculous to be afraid of a prisoner, especially one who was so slender and young. But there was something about those eyes, even when they were above a prisoner placard…he shivered and shook his head briskly as he clocked in and took his coat off.

At the very least, the kid probably wouldn’t be housed in Kaito’s unit. His unit consisted of mostly isolation cells, and no one would put a teenager in solitary confinement. No matter what he’d done, that was something no warden in his right mind would do.

“Watanabe!”

On the other hand, no one would ever accuse Warden Nakamura of being in his right mind. Kaito rubbed the back of his neck as he approached his boss. Nakamura was a massive man, built along the lines of a gorilla. While Kaito wasn’t a small man himself, Nakamura managed to make him feel tiny. “Sir,” he greeted with a little bow.

“You’re late,” the warden growled, looking dramatically up at a large clock. As he looked at it, the minute hand ticked over to one minute past the hour.

Kaito swallowed everything he wanted to say – because no, he really wasn’t, he’d clocked in right on time like he always did – and replied, “Sir.” It was such a versatile word, he’d found: an acknowledgement without being agreement or disagreement. He couldn’t get in as much trouble if he didn’t agree or disagree.

“Which means you get the best duty of the day,” Nakamura said with a wicked grin. “New prisoner on the block today, needs escorting from the holding cell into solitary.”

Well, fuck. He’d been hoping for an easy day, with a minimum of fuss. “Yes, sir,” he agreed, taking the clipboard and flipping a page back. Then he bit back a string of swear words as he realized who he was supposed to escort. Son of a _bitch_ …there was that face again, staring up at him from the clipboard. The same angular face, the same unruly mop of hair…the same stern stare that, even with the fear and exhaustion, indicated that he remained uncowed by his situation.

“We’re housing a minor in a solitary cell, sir?” Kaito asked, risking a dressing-down in his confusion over the situation.

Nakamura’s face turned roughly the shade of a tomato as he glared down at Kaito. “You know who this kid is?” he demanded.

“The…the leader of the Phantom Thieves?” Kaito ventured.

“The very same,” Nakamura boomed. “The Phantom Thieves, who killed Okumura. The Phantom Thieves, who disgraced so many of our fine city’s most powerful people.”

“But he’s also a teenager,” Kaito murmured.

Nakamura drew his baton, and Kaito flinched back, afraid that the warden was about to take his rage out on his subordinate. Instead, the bigger man slammed the baton against the doorframe. “Doesn’t matter how old he is,” Nakamura boomed. “He’s a murderer! Whose methods are still unknown! We have to keep him locked down, away from the general population! We don’t want him killing any of our prisoners!”

Kaito wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to be discrete about removing the flying spittle. “Sir,” he mumbled. His boss had a point; no one knew how the Phantom Thieves had carried out their crimes, and having the leader anywhere near other prisoners could be dangerous.

“Anything else to add?” Nakamura asked, his voice suddenly soft and dangerous.

“No, sir.” Kaito cleared his throat and tried to stand up straight. “I’ll…just go get him, then.” The paperwork indicated that the Phantom Thief was being held in the temporary holding cell on the main floor, and he backed up a few steps, gesturing uselessly.

“You do that,” Nakamura said, holstering his baton and scooping up another pile of clipboards.

Kaito escaped before his boss could give him another set of unpalatable duties. _Shit. Shit!_ Bad enough they had to house the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but now he had to escort the kid to a solitary cell? Fuck. Just, fuck.

Sighing, Kaito got into the elevator and rode it down as he read the dossier. The boy’s name was Ren Amamiya, age seventeen. He was previously out on probation for assault in Inaba, but he had shattered the very idea of probation when he decided to go on a murder spree as a Phantom Thief. Damn. If he’d just made it a couple more months, he would have been fine. No impulse control, really.  
  
Kaito snorted to himself as he put the clipboard on the receiving warden’s desk and waited impatiently to be let inside. Clearly, the best thing at the moment was to give a hardened murderer advice on how to get away with a murder spree. Sometimes, he really didn’t have the best ideas.

“Hey, Watanabe,” the receiving warden, Fujimoto, greeted. “Here for Amamiya?”

“That’s the running theory,” Kaito replied with a sigh. “He awake?”

“Yep.” Fujimoto shifted from foot to foot, looking more uncomfortable than Kaito had ever seen him. “He’s been awake for hours.”

Kaito squinted at the other man, trying to figure out what was going on with him. “Has he been violent? Loud? Anything?”

“Nothing,” the warden said quietly. “Really. He hasn’t moved since we put him in that cell last night.”

For some reason, the way the other man said that made Kaito shiver. Prisoners who were resigned to their fate were usually the easiest to handle, because they didn’t have any fight in them. But they usually weren’t like that when they first came into the prison. Anyone who started that way…yes, that was unnerving.

“Right,” Kaito said, shaking that off. “Well, regardless, I need to take him to his destination. Get him ready?”

He followed the muttering warden down the hallway toward the lone occupied holding cell. With the holiday, they’d been shockingly quiet. Now that he thought about that, the silence was uncanny. Kaito had worked six Christmases, and they were usually the busiest for them. Tugging at the sleeves of his uniform, he forced himself to focus on the duty at hand as they stopped in front of the only occupied cell.

Ren Amamiya was dressed in a prison uniform, sitting on the metal shelf that passed for a bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers loosely laced together as he stared at the floor. He gave no indication that he’d heard anyone approach.

Fujimoto whacked the bars with his baton, trying to get the kid to flinch. “Amamiya! On your feet, time to move out!”

Amamiya didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. If Kaito didn’t know any better, he’d swear the kid was nothing more than a wax statue, left to fool them. He entertained that idea for a moment. Amamiya was a Phantom Thief, after all, and no one knew exactly what they could do. But no, the kid was breathing, his shoulders shifting up and down just the tiniest bits.

Kaito stepped up to the bars, watching the kid like he was a cobra ready to strike at any moment. “Hey,” he said, his voice low.

For the first time, Amamiya moved. Just a little, a little head tilt in Kaito’s direction, but it was something.

Good. They wouldn’t have to get violent with him. That was always a good sign, in Kaito’s eyes. “I’m here to take you to your new holdings,” he said, his voice still carefully controlled. “And it’ll be a hell of a lot better for you if you cooperate with us. Or would you prefer a repeat of the last time you were in custody?” That little… ‘incident’ wasn’t in any official records, but every cop and warden in the city knew about it.

Amamiya flinched. It was a small gesture, barely visible, but Kaito saw it, and he knew he held all of the power in that situation. Then the kid looked up at Kaito, his grey eyes blazing hot under his messy hair, and Kaito took an involuntary step backwards. If Amamiya was afraid, the fear was deeply buried under a rage like nothing Kaito had ever seen. “I would prefer to never repeat that situation,” Amamiya said. He was soft-spoken, with a rich voice edged in steel.

Apparently seeing he’d gotten his point across, Amamiya stood up in a single graceful movement, walking over to the bars. He slipped his hands through the opening at waist height, apparently already familiar with the procedure.

 _‘Well, of course,’_ Kaito thought as he retrieved a pair of shackles and attached them to the kid’s slender wrists. _‘He_ has _done this before, after all.’_

Once the kid’s hands were safely shackled down, Fujimoto opened the door, and the two wardens shackled Amamiya’s feet together. It was old fashioned, but if a thing ain’t broke…

Fujimoto escorted the two of them down the hall to the elevator, then looked at Kaito. “Got him?”

“Got him,” Kaito confirmed as the elevator dinged open. “Thanks.”  
  
“Sure.” Fujimoto eyed Amamiya, who was examining the floor between his feet. “Careful with this one, yeah? The arresting cops said he laid out a bunch of them back in the weird place last month.”

The weird place. That was another open secret the cops and wardens of the city shared: when the kid was captured before his interrogation, he’d been in a place that didn’t exist in the city. A casino of some sort, apparently. Kaito would have dismissed that as someone spreading tall tales, but he’d heard the same story from multiple people he trusted.

“I know,” Kaito agreed, pushing the thoughts away. “I’ll be fine.” He nudged Amamiya with his baton, pushing the kid into the elevator with a clatter of chains.

“Your funeral,” Fujimoto muttered as the elevator door closed.

The isolation cells were underground, well away from the rest of the general population. Kaito kept a close eye on Amamiya as they descended. The kid had looked up sharply at the door when the elevator started going down, but didn’t say anything as he went back to examining his bare feet. The silence was deafening, broken only by the mechanical sounds of the elevator and Amamiya’s somewhat ragged breathing. He sounded like he was trying to keep from panicking.

 _‘Good,’_ Kaito thought. Maybe Amamiya was finally realizing the full enormity of his situation, and understanding that he was going to be in for a difficult time.

The doors dinged open, and Kaito led Amamiya out of the elevator and down a hall. The elevator didn’t go all the way down to the isolation cells, for security purposes, so they had a flight of stairs still between them and their final destination.

Kaito let Amamiya walk (waddle, really), down two steps before making his move. Shifting smoothly, the warden tripped the teenager, adding in a shove for good measure as he sent Amamiya flying down the stairs.

The kid didn’t let out a sound as he fell, almost as if he expected something like this. Instead, he landed badly once before curling into himself, falling down the rest of the stairs like a goddamned gymnast. Too late, Kaito remembered that the arresting officers back in the weird casino place had mentioned the kid moved like someone trained in parkour and acrobatics. Amamiya came to a crashing, clattering stop at the bottom and kept rolling until he hit a wall. That impact got a grunt of pain from him, and he settled into a crumpled heap against the wall.

Kaito walked down the stairs leisurely, trying to compose sentences in his head as he approached the teenager. He’d expected to have the advantage this time, with the sudden attack and discombobulation. He wasn’t quite sure what to say when Amamiya seemed to be ready for something like that, and had the training to handle it.

He crouched down next to Amamiya and opened his mouth to say something. But Amamiya raised his head, pinning the older man with a look of pure rage, and Kaito stopped, all words turned to pebbles in his mouth.

Amamiya braced his hands on the floor and pushed himself up so he was eye level with Kaito, and the warden shied back a little, certain he was about to be strangled to death with the chains. Instead, Amamiya spoke. His voice was low and coldly controlled, with not an ounce of pain leaking through.

“I’ve spent the last eight months fighting adults like you. Adults who use their power to hurt and control people who can’t fight back, adults who abuse people because they can. Every single person I took down took power from someone else, even destroyed their lives sometimes.” Amamiya lifted his chin and inhaled, a tiny flash of pain shimmering briefly across his expression. “I may be in prison for the rest of my life. I accept that as necessary to allow society to continue to respect the powers that be.” The naked contempt on his face showed exactly what he thought of _that_ idea. “But. My teammates and I have shown others what is possible. My generation knows the Phantom Thieves, and what we did. If they didn’t know before Christmas, I can promise you that our information campaign will get the details out there before much longer.” Amamiya met and held Kaito’s gaze, refusing to allow the older man to break away. “People like me will always fight people like you.”

Thoroughly unnerved by the calm confidence in Amamiya’s eyes and remembering how his sister idolized the Phantom Thieves – did she go to that Phansite thing? He’d have to check – Kaito finally broke the eye contact and stood up. “You’ll see soon enough what the consequences of that fight are,” he growled, hauling Amamiya up by one arm and shoving him along the hallway. “You’ll be spending time in a tiny little cell for your troubles, far away from your friends and family.”

Amamiya didn’t fight the manhandling, though he was clearly struggling to keep up with the chains linking his ankles together. But when Kaito glanced at him, he thought the teenager looked paler than before. _‘Fucking better,’_ he thought, hauling Amamiya around a corner toward the cell designated for him. Isolation cells were bad enough when they shared a wall with another similar cell; prisoners had been known to learn tap codes and pass notes through vents. Amamiya didn’t get even that tiny luxury. His cell was completely isolated, surrounded by blank concrete walls on all sides.

Opening the door, Kaito shoved the teenager inside and slammed the door shut behind him, not stopping long enough to remove the chains. Let him keep those for a day. Maybe the weight would serve as a constant reminder of his rebellion against the system, and its consequences.

Mentally and emotionally exhausted, as if he’d just fought a real battle with the young Phantom Thief, Kaito dragged his feet back to the main office to actually get some damn work done. But he found his eyes drawn back to the camera pointed into Amamiya’s cell more than once throughout the day. If the kid was breaking yet, he showed no signs. _‘Well, time enough for that,’_ Kaito sneered internally as he clocked out and walked out of the building. The crowds outside hadn’t abated; if anything, there were more of them. This time, he noticed their signs.

_‘Freedom for Amamiya!’_

_‘Fight corruption!’_

_‘Change hearts!’_

Kaito’s heart sank down into his toes as he stopped and stared. Fuck. All of these people were here for _Amamiya_?! That didn’t bode well for anyone’s temper, and if it lasted longer than the average protest…well, the government was already in disarray after Shido’s public confession and subsequent removal. This could make matters worse.

“Keep an eye on those towers of yours, warden man. They might just come crumbling down.”

Kaito whipped around, looking for whoever had said that. The voice sounded young, like a little boy’s, but he couldn’t see anyone close enough to have said something like that so quietly. A black and white cat sat on one of the steps by a pillar, tail wrapped primly around its legs, and it stared up at him with blue eyes. Probably not a stray, not with how well fed it looked, not to mention the bright yellow collar around its neck. “Mrow?” It tilted its head to the side, looking completely innocent. 

“Losing my damn mind,” Kaito muttered, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “Scat, kitty. Someone will step on you, there.”

“Mrow!” The cat stretched luxuriously, curling its tail over its back, before running off down a side street.

Had it understood him? Nerves prickled along Kaito’s spine, and he hunched his shoulders in his coat as he made a beeline for home. He really did need a couple days off, so he could convince himself that the cat’s eyes weren’t filled with a sardonic intelligence.


	2. Chapter Two

She really should go find something else to do. Even before Futaba’s search results came in, there had to be something she could do as the de facto leader of the Phantom Thieves. Sure, Mementos didn’t exist anymore, so the usual method for helping people was no longer available to them, but surely she could meet with people Ren knew, people who might be able to help.

Instead, Makoto sat alone in Ren’s room, wrapped up in his blanket and crying softly. She could keep up the façade around her friends, but when she was alone, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she’d seen Ren. They’d shared a Christmas date, strangely cold and awkward for everything they had shared. At the time, she’d thought it was because he was exhausted after Arsene transformed into Satanael. She understood that completely; after the sheer amount of work the fight with Yaldabaoth had taken, she was barely functional herself. Now she knew. Sae had told her everything: he’d asked for one more day before turning himself in, a day to spend as he saw fit. And he’d spent it with her, in a quiet date in this very room.

Why hadn’t he _told_ her? A useless thought; she knew exactly why he hadn’t told her. She would have suggested something like running away together, hiding from the world at large so they could continue being together outside of prison. Something Futaba had said the last time he sacrificed himself for the group occurred to her: he’d pulled agro like the massive moron he was. Makoto had to look that up after the conversation, since she wasn’t current with gaming terminology. Now she understood. He had a compulsive need to draw enemy fire to himself, in an effort to save his teammates. That sounded exactly right, actually. He’d done it again now, falling on his sword to keep the government from looking too closely at the other Phantom Thieves.

Still, he’d made one crucial mistake: he’d assumed they would go on with their lives after the government locked him up and threw away the key. Maybe they’d mourn for a little while, but they’d go forth and do whatever they were meant to do with their lives. Sniffling and choking out a strained little laugh, Makoto wiped her eyes with the corner of the blanket. “You’re such a moron, Ren,” she whispered into the echoing silence. “As if we could go on and not at least try to save you.”

It was an understandable mistake. The Phantom Thieves were truly disbanded now. They couldn’t access the Metaverse. Mementos, always a mystery before it became an invading force, was gone. Anat no longer whispered in her ear. Akechi himself couldn’t have destroyed the Phantom Thieves so thoroughly. In reality, they had no reason to stick together any longer. Maybe Ren thought they would drift apart, as high schoolers tend to do, and find their own paths.

Maybe he would have even been right, except for one small detail: while their mission was completed, the Phantom Thieves lived on. They were family, a group of people who had faced down a god and shot it in the face. There was nothing in the world that could pull them apart, not after all they’d been through together. After the initial shock, Ann rallied the troops, Makoto took command as easily as if she was born to it, and they focused on their new mission with all of the fire and fight they’d brought to any other Palace. Sure, they were hampered with the loss of both Ren and Morgana, but they had their talents and skills, and by damn, they were going to fight tooth and nail to make sure justice was done.

Covering her face with Ren’s blanket, Makoto inhaled deeply, breathing in his comforting smell that lingered in the fabric. Even with the knowledge that they were doing everything they could to free him, she couldn’t stop the aching, driving pain that made it hard to breathe. She felt so achingly, horribly alone.

The bell jingled downstairs, and Makoto burrowed deeper under the blanket. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone right now, not with her face swollen up from crying. She waited, listening to see if someone was actually coming up. But there was no heavy tread on the attic steps, no light bare feet rushing up to give Makoto some sort of update. The only people who would be here this time of night were Futaba or Sojiro, and whoever it was seemed disinclined to come upstairs.

She relaxed slowly, pressing her face into Ren’s pillow to muffle a soft sob. God, she couldn’t even imagine how hard this was on Sojiro and Futaba. The younger girl tended to hide everything until she had a moment to think, but she’d just lost the person she referred to as her “key item”, the person who went with her on social outings and had incredible patience for her moments of lockdown. And Sojiro, God. He’d taken Ren as an adopted son, taught him the inner workings of the café, even opened up to him, according to a couple things her boyfriend had mentioned in passing.

Everyone was heartbroken by the events of the past days. Everyone had reason to grieve. Was she being selfish, hiding away from everyone else and sobbing into Ren’s pillow like a child? Maybe. But it was her best way of coping at the moment.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to the sinfully delectable smell of Boss’s curry filling the building. Her stomach cramped and growled painfully, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day. Sitting up, she wrapped Ren’s blanket tightly around herself as she peeked out. No one else was in the room, but the smell of the curry beckoned her like a silent hand, guiding her down toward the lower floor. After a moment’s internal struggle, she got up and padded toward the stairs. She stopped long enough to get Ren’s school blazer, hanging neatly on a hook by the stairs. She wasn’t cold, exactly, but she did need the comforting weight on her shoulders.

Futaba was sitting in her usual spot at the counter, and Sojiro looked up from dishing out a plate of curry. “Hey,” he said, taking Makoto’s appearance in. “Sit down, plenty for everyone.”

“Okay,” Makoto agreed softly, not bothering with the usual demurring comments she’d make on a normal day. She sat next to Futaba, who fidgeted for a moment before throwing her arms around Makoto.

“This sucks,” the redhead said, her voice muffled in Makoto’s shoulder. “He’s supposed to be here with us, having a celebration dinner.”

“I know,” Makoto agreed, holding Futaba and resting her cheek on the younger girl’s hair. “He’s supposed to be here.”

Futaba sniffled, then burst out into soft tears. “I could just _punch_ him, you know?” she managed. “We’re a team! A family! We’re supposed to make the decisions together! And then he went off and threw himself off a cliff, and what, we’re supposed to just laugh it off and go ‘oh, that Renren!’ and live the rest of our lives?” She shook her head vigorously, nearly knocking both of them off balance before she regained herself and pulled out of Makoto’s arms.

“Yeah,” Makoto sighed, settling her arms on the countertop and hugging her elbows. “At least with the Akechi situation, we all knew what the plan was in advance, and could prepare for it.”

“This was just so…ugh!” Futaba flung herself on the counter, splaying out in every direction.

Sojiro calmly held the plates back out of her way until she settled down a bit, then put Makoto’s plate in front of her. “You guys are all doing your best to solve the problem,” he said, having been brought up to date on what was going on. “Until you can actually smack the guy in person for being a moron, you need to take care of yourselves. Coffee, Makoto?”

“I’m probably not sleeping tonight anyway,” Makoto said with a shaky little laugh. As he moved away to start the coffee, she added, “Actually, on that subject…”

“Just bring a bag over,” Sojiro interrupted. “I’ll probably put you to work around here, when you’re not at school, that is.” He glanced at her, smiling a little at the shock on her face. “I figured you’d want to be here for a while.”

There was a lot to unpack in that comment, and Makoto didn’t have the energy to untangle it at the moment. She did want to be here, and he’d anticipated the request, and that was all she could ask for. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll…I’ll bring a bag tomorrow, when I come back from school.”

Boss nodded his agreement as he made her the blend of coffee she’d fallen in love with. It wouldn’t be made with the same love as Ren’s version, but she thought this one would do her just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They did finally talk Futaba into eating, and they even shared a small dessert. At last, though, it was time for Futaba and Sojiro to go back to Sojiro’s house. Futaba promised to keep Makoto up to date on what she found, and they agreed to go find and talk to Yoshida the next morning. He still knew people in the government; surely he could help pull the right strings.

When they left, Makoto felt the overwhelming loneliness crash over her. She didn’t even have Morgana to keep her company. Going upstairs, she turned on the television and found a channel playing infomercials. None of the fragile crap they were selling interested her, but the sounds kept the room from being too quiet.

Unable to sleep, she walked around the sparse room restlessly, hugging her arms around herself as she looked at Ren’s knickknacks. She’d seen them before, of course. She’d given him some of them, and those little trinkets brought back memories of their dates across Tokyo. God, they’d done almost everything together. Closing her eyes, Makoto choked back tears. She was so tired of crying.

Her restless path eventually brought her back to Ren’s desk, and she sat in the chair, drawing her knees up to her chest as she stared off into space in the vague direction of the television. This was ridiculous. At least this time, she knew he wasn’t dead. The leak to the press on the subject made sure that the public knew Ren was being arrested, which prevented him from being taken somewhere like the interrogation rooms to be buried alive. Sae had done that much right, at least. She was deeply worried about what the police might do to him, knowing he was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but she couldn’t think too much about how he had come back the last time.

Of course, telling herself not to think about that was the surest way to make sure she did relieve every painful moment he had described. She shivered, a soft sob escaping her as she covered her face with both hands. No. She had to do something productive with her time. If she couldn’t sleep, then she could formulate a plan of attack, draw in everyone Ren ever befriended and find a way to get them working with the information campaign. Yoshida was the obvious first choice, and one they’d discussed, but there had to be others.

She pulled a piece of paper out of Ren’s crafting stash and started writing, plans taking shape under her fingers as the night wore away around her. At last, she’d written down everything she could think of, and she sat back in the chair, exhausted. “That’s a place to start,” she said to the television, and the chipper anime girl on the screen seemed to agree.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Makoto took a picture of the plan (all three pages of it) and sent it out to the group chat. Something chimed from the shelving, somewhere up high above her eye line, and she frowned as she went looking for the source of the sound. When she found it, her heart almost collapsed in her chest. Ren had left his phone behind. It was locked, of course, but he’d told her the password ages ago. His home screen was a picture of the two of them together at Destinyland, before Haru’s father died. They looked so happy together, both of them grinning from ear to ear, and Makoto choked out a little sob as she cuddled the phone to her chest. “Oh Ren,” she managed.

The phones chimed in her hands as she made her blind way back to the desk – probably the other Thieves responding with comments of their own. She sent a brief message on her phone – _Sorry, need to sign off for tonight_ – before turning off both phones and dropping them on the desk.

She’d probably worried them, and removed all methods of communication in the process, but she couldn’t handle listening to both phones chiming. It reminded her of the evenings they’d spent in this very room, sending occasional messages to the group chat while cuddling on the couch. God, the memories were threatening to destroy her, with how sweet and wonderful they were, and the knowledge that there was a chance she’d never have that again.

Sinking into the desk chair, she groped blindly at the paper, pulling a few sheets out in her rush to get a grip on her emotions. She thought best when writing, and what harm could it do? Ren would never see this letter.

_Dear Ren,_ she wrote in a shaky hand before pausing, trying to find the place to start.

_I’m so angry at you. Angry, and hurt, and so very, very alone. Why? Why didn’t you say something? Why did I have to hear from my sister that the man I love with all of my heart might be in jail the rest of his life? At the very least, I should have heard that from you._

_I know you didn’t want to worry me. But darling, I am worried. Scared, actually, and shattered into a million pieces. Your room is too empty without you, and everyone is hurt and scared, and I don’t know how to be strong enough for all of them without you._

_You could do it, if you were here, you with your nearly supernatural ability to keep everyone on an even keel and sort out all of our problems. But you’re not here, and I’m having to muddle along on my own, while everyone else leans on me for support, and I’m just not strong enough._

Makoto stopped there, wiping away tears that had escaped her. A few managed to make it onto the paper, soaking through and making the letters watery. Well, never mind. He’d never read this, anyway. Even if he did make it out of prison, she’d make sure he’d never read it.

            _I love you. With every fiber of my being, I wish I could punch you and cry on you for scaring me so badly, before letting you soothe me with your touch and your stupid kitty cat eyes. Things would be all right, then. But nothing is all right at the moment. Because you’re not here to kiss my hair and call me Mako and remind me why I feel so safe with you._

_God, I miss you._

_Sorry to explode all over the page like this. Just as well you’ll never see this letter. You’d probably go mad with worry on your own, in there._

_I just keep thinking about how you came back to me last time. How I practically had to carry you for a little bit, to keep you up and moving long enough to heal and turn back to the mission at hand._

_We don’t have Mementos this time. Try to keep from getting broken? I’d never forgive myself for not asking why you were so distant on Christmas if you came back shattered and bleeding again._

Okay, this was getting a bit self-indulgent, and she couldn’t stand being that way for very long, even in a letter for her eyes only. Exhaling slowly, she wiped her face again with both hands.

            _I love you. With all of my heart. Please take care of yourself. Boss and I will take care of the others, as long as you take care of yourself._

_With all of my love,_

_Mako_

Once the ink (and the tear stains) had a chance to dry, Makoto folded the letter up into a small triangle, wrote Ren’s name on the outside, and put it on the windowsill. She couldn’t think why she’d put his name on the outside, except for a vague hope that the spirits would see it and know she was thinking of him, and maybe take her love to him in his prison cell.

Her emotions spent for the moment, she stumbled to the bed and collapsed on top of it, wrapping the blanket loosely around herself as she cuddled into Ren’s pillow. Sleep hit her like a freight train moments later.

Ten minutes later, when he was absolutely sure she was asleep, a small black and white cat wearing a yellow collar crept through the window and looked down at her sadly. The Phantom Thieves were too strong to break, not over something like this, but they were badly bruised. He couldn’t let that stand, not after all they’d been through. Working carefully to make sure he didn’t get spit all over the letter, the cat scooped up the letter in his mouth and trotted away toward the prison, his ears and tail alert. He couldn’t return to them yet; he wasn’t any use to them in this Palace. But he would do what he could to support them from the edges, even without Mercurius at his call.


	3. Chapter Three

Kaito started the day in a bad mood. They had other prisoners, dammit, and he had other duties he needed to perform. But all anyone wanted to talk about was Amamiya this, Amamiya that, oh, was he going mad inside that cell?

There was a betting pool on how long the wiry teenager would last in solitary before going completely insane.

That had happened before. Solitary was hard on anyone, and some people broke under the pressure of being along with their own thoughts and the echoing of their breathing off the walls. By all rights, Kaito should have been right there with his colleagues, gleefully taking bets and making comments about how fitting it would be for a Phantom Thief to go insane like his many victims.

But Kaito had been thinking a lot about the kid since the day before. Thinking about the power in his eyes, and the cool restraint in every movement. He hadn’t made a lunge at Kaito, when Kaito had just dropped him down a flight of stairs. Why? They were alone in that hallway; if he’d gone after Kaito, changes were good he could cause some serious damage before anyone got there to help.

Amamiya could have seriously hurt Kaito, and he didn’t, even when he had reason. That thought kept sticking in the gears of Kaito’s thought process, grinding everything together uncomfortably.

“Fuck,” he muttered, turning away from the thousandth conversation on the subject of the Amamiya insanity timeline. He needed a break, away from these goons. He didn’t smoke much these days, but he kept a pack around for days like this, and now seemed like a perfect time to take a smoke break.

Slipping out a side door, he leaned against a wall and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the cloud of smoke away as his shoulders started relaxing. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.

The funny thing was, Amamiya hadn’t actually done anything to elicit the conversations that sprang up around the building. Someone else had taken the chains off of him sometime in the night (probably for the best, no one wanted a trip to the infirmary because of severe wrist chafing), and according to the night staff, he lay down on his bed, folded his hands on his stomach, and didn’t move. He’d been in the same position when Kaito arrived for his shift, and last he’d looked in the camera, the damn teenager was still in that same pose. Sometimes his eyes were open, and sometimes not, but he remained otherwise perfectly still. That, in Kaito’s mind, was completely unnatural. People moved around, shifted position, got bored of staring at the same thing for hours. But Amamiya just…stayed.

“This kid’s gonna break me long before he breaks,” Kaito muttered, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers as he stared up at the edge of the roof above him.

“As long as it happens before those cigs kill you.”

That voice. It was the same damn voice he’d heard back on the steps, when he was around the protestors. This time, though, there wasn’t anyone else there. Kaito rocketed to his feet so fast, he nearly passed out at the sudden shift in position. Rocking back and forth and leaning on the wall for support, he looked around wildly, trying to spot the speaker.

Again, no damn sign of anyone. But as he looked up the side street, that cat came trotting up to him, carrying something small and white in its mouth. Not many cats wore bright yellow collars, or walked toward a human with an air of purpose. “You again,” he said, crouching down to put himself close to the cat’s level. “What, you adopting this prison? I don’t think this is a good place for you.”

The cat gave him a Look that was almost eerily human, and Kaito let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, fair enough,” he conceded as he leaned back against the wall and took another drag from his cigarette. “This isn’t really a good place for anyone, is it?”

The cat walked up to him and sat down, still holding the small white thing in its mouth. This close, Kaito realized it was a piece of paper, folded up really small. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, reaching out for the paper. Just as he was about to touch it, the cat bounded sideways, its tail floofing out in warning. “Okay, okay, jeez,” he said, holding up a hand in surrender. “Keep your damn secret.”

Thus assured, the cat sat down again, cocking its head to one side as if asking a question. Kaito sucked in more smoke, blowing it up toward the roof. “Been a hell of a couple days,” he said, gesturing vaguely with the cigarette. “We got stuck with the teenager who led the Phantom Thieves. Ever heard of them?”

The cat cocked its head to the other side and blinked slowly, the very picture of innocence, and Kaito shook his head. “See, and now I’ve gone raving mad. I’m talking to a cat like it’s a human.” He sighed, stubbing out what was left of his cigarette and lighting another one. He’d pay for this later, but the current relaxation was important enough to take the risk. “But that’s what having a famous prisoner does to you. This Amamiya is uncannily calm, like he’s just waiting for something and we’re an inconvenient stop along the way. He hasn’t moved in hours, and that’s just unnatural. People move, you know? They fidget and fiddle and think and wiggle body parts, and he isn’t doing any of that.”

The cat set the piece of paper down carefully on its paws before saying, “Mrow?” in a questioning tone.

“I mean, I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with him.” Despite his best efforts, but he didn’t feel right saying that to a cat. There was something about that blue stare which felt… _more_ , somehow. He couldn’t explain it any better than that, except maybe that his guilt was getting the best of him. “It’s like he’s asleep, or off somewhere in his mind where the rest of us don’t get to see what’s going on. Except his eyes are open a lot of the time, so there goes _that_ theory.”

Kaito sighed, taking another drag from the cigarette and closing his eyes. He heard something rustle, and then something light rested on his knee. He opened his eyes, frowning in consternation, and realized the cat had put the carefully guarded piece of folded paper on his knee. “What’s this for?” he asked, picking the paper up and starting to unfold the careful, tight folds.

“Rowr!” The cat swatted his hand hard. No claws, he noticed, so the cat didn’t want to hurt him, but its displeasure was very, very clear.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he muttered, putting the paper carefully back on his knee. He realized there was something written on the outside in light pen strokes, and he frowned as he turned it so the characters were right side up. Then his jaw dropped open as he realized what he was reading. “ _Ren_?” He remembered that the kid’s given name was Ren; he practically had every known detail about the kid memorized at this point, thanks to the constant gossip. “No, no way in hell. Are you telling me to give this to Amamiya?”

The cat sat down, curling its tail around its paws in a gesture that somehow projected assent and pleasure all at once.

“You carried a note here, all the way from whoever wrote this, and you want me to give it to Amamiya.” He was dreaming. He had to be. There was no way any cat, even a very smart cat, could be trained to carry messages like this. Especially since Amamiya hadn’t been in custody for very long. But the cat was still staring up at him with those crystal-blue eyes, so he laughed weakly and shrugged, tucking the triangle into his breast pocket. “Fine. Yeah, sure, I guess, I’ll see if I can get it in to him.”

“Mrow!” The cat rubbed up against his knee, purring happily, before turning and darting down the street. It stopped at the intersection with the main street and turned back to look at Kaito, pinning the man with a Look that somehow managed to say, _‘Don’t disappoint me,’_ before it ran off.

Well. Either a spirit in the shape of a cat had just visited him, or he was going insane. Kaito sucked in one last desperate lungful of smoke before stubbing out the cigarette and getting up, patting the little triangle in his pocket as if he couldn’t quite believe it was really there.

When he went back inside, the busy flow of work picked him up and carried him for a while, so he was able to forget about the cat and the weird delivery service for the kid. That is, until lunchtime rolled around, and he drew the short straw: his turn to go deliver food to the solitary cells. It was a duty no one liked, so they had a rotation going to keep any one person from getting too burned out by having to briefly interact with the isolated prisoners. 

He groaned over the whole thing, as was expected, but he felt the weight of the little triangle of paper in his pocket tugging at him. This was the perfect time to deliver the message, without drawing attention. So he loaded up the lunch cart for the four currently occupied solitary cells, and went to work.

The occupants of the first three cells behaved exactly as expected. One of them cried as he clung to Kaito, begging for freedom. Another raged so hard Kaito briefly feared for his own safety. And the third sat and rocked in the corner; Kaito made a note to have her sent to the infirmary.

He saved Amamiya’s cell for last, mostly because he wanted a moment to talk to (or at least _at_ ) the teenager. Amamiya’s eyes were closed when Kaito came into the room, but the warden had the uncomfortable feeling that the young man was keeping tabs on his every movement, even with closed eyes.

“Chow time,” Kaito grunted, carrying the tray into the cell. Amamiya tensed a little when Kaito spoke, probably expecting some sort of attack, but didn’t open his eyes or move so much as a finger.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Kaito remarked, inanely wanting to fill the silence. “Laying on the bed like that.”

The corners of Amamiya’s mouth turned up in a sardonic little smile. “Not the worst bed I’ve ever slept on,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

He hadn’t expected an answer, let alone one that had an air of self-deprecating humor. Kaito smiled a little to himself, shaking his head. Then he shifted carefully so he was blocking the camera, looming over the teenager. Amamiya opened his eyes, tilting his chin up a bit to look at Kaito. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw set in a way that indicated that he was prepared for a blow or some sort of attack.

Kaito carefully drew the little triangle of paper out of his pocket and dropped it on Amamiya’s chest. “Special delivery,” he muttered. He didn’t quite know what else to call it, when the method of delivery was via cat.

Amamiya reached up and wrapped his long fingers around the paper, suspicion slowly morphing to astonishment as he looked at his name on the front of the triangle. “Where did this come from?” he asked. “Did someone come by to see me?”

“Nah, we don’t take messages for isolation cell prisoners.” Kaito shrugged uncomfortably. “It got to you, what else do you need to know? Don’t tell nobody I got this to you.”

Amamiya looked at the handwriting again, blinking rapidly, and Kaito realized uncomfortably that the kid was fighting back tears. “I…I won’t,” he agreed, slipping the triangle under his shirt and putting his hands back on his stomach.

Kaito grunted and nodded, stepping away. “I’ll be back to get the tray soon, so no dallying.”

He headed for the door at speed, but paused when Amamiya said, “Watanabe-san?” When Kaito glanced over his shoulder at the kid, somewhat astonished that he remembered Kaito’s name, Amamiya gave him the barest hint of a real smile. “Thank you.”

Muttering in embarrassment, Kaito hurried out of the cell and closed the door firmly behind himself. He was clearly getting soft in his old age. He knew he could get in a lot of trouble if someone found out he was passing notes to an isolation prisoner. But…well, when a spirit cat was the messenger, and the recipient was so strange as to be almost unearthly, he felt it was almost his duty to follow through on the request.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ren waited until he couldn’t hear Watanabe’s footsteps anymore. Then he waited another five full minutes, keeping track of his heartbeat to mark the time. He had to keep recounting the beats, since his heart rate was a bit elevated.

He knew the handwriting on the outside of the paper triangle, as well as he knew his own handwriting. Makoto was an inveterate note-taker, and she liked passing little love notes along at random occasions. She always folded the notes up into a tight little triangle, for ease of passing them without being seen, and she always wrote the recipient’s name on the outside.

This note was from her.

Squeezing his eyes tightly, Ren fought back a little sob. He’d held it together so well since turning himself in. Rage was easy to find, especially when assholes like Watanabe were around to fulfill expectations, and cold anger helped keep him from the bone-deep pain of being so far from his family.

But he was achingly lonely. There it was, the real emotion hiding under all of the rage, the one he tried so hard not to look at.

Before coming to Tokyo, lonely was his default state of being. He was comfortable there, able to sink into his own head and drift away into a fantasy world of one sort or another. So he thought he would be all right in prison, even if he had to be alone all of the time.

God, was that ever a mistake. Now that he’d tapped into the Metaverse, he realized that he’d heard Arsene’s voice in the back of his mind all of his life. Losing access to the Metaverse, to the Persona that had been such a part of his soul…he felt like half of a person, hollowed out, somehow. If he’d been able to be with his friends, able to grieve the loss of their Personas together, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.

As it stood now, though, he was without friends, without his Persona, without any reason to do anything. He was drifting, unable or unwilling to do anything.

But what else could he have done? Sae was right; the entire country needed a scapegoat, and Sae understood Ren after the day they spent together in the interrogation room. She knew he’d never, ever allow anyone to hurt the Phantom Thieves, not when there was another path. It was the only choice. Didn’t mean it was an easy choice.

Once upon a time, Ren had read that the term ‘scapegoat’ came from an old Jewish tradition, where every year, the sins of the nation were transferred to a goat that was sent to wander alone in the desert. His young imagination latched onto the idea and conjured up the idea of a community of goats wandering the desert, carrying their yearly burden forever. That was nightmare fuel for a while, something that broke his young heart. Now, he felt a little jealous of that imagined community; at least they all had each other.

His hand tightened around the little triangle of paper hidden under his shirt, the corner biting into the meat of his palm. This was an anchor. Makoto was thinking of him. There was a world outside of prison that acknowledged he still existed.

Opening his eyes, he sat up and looked at the food. None of it looked particularly appetizing, but he was hungry. Shifting over, he slipped the triangle of paper down into the waistband of his pants, praying it would stay in place while he moved around.

He ate with no enthusiasm but a great deal of hunger, cleaning the plate and emptying the bowl before stacking them neatly on the tray. Then he shifted to the far edge of the bed. He’d come up with a way to read the note without the guards seeing; he was very aware of the camera, but if he sat bent over in the corner, he could read without being seen. It was worth a shot, anyway.

Standing up with a wince (the bruises from the tumble down the stairs were really very uncomfortable, and he hadn’t moved much since the night before), Ren walked to the far corner and knelt, pressing his forehead into the corner and turning his body into a curled shield for the little triangle of paper that was his anchor.

His hands shook as he unfolded the tight folds, swearing under his breath as his fingers slipped a couple times. But at last, he got it open and read the brief lines inside.

Every word pierced him like a dagger to the heart. Makoto was hurting and afraid. He’d caused that. He’d hurt the one person he never, ever wanted to hurt in life. “Oh, Mako,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he held the letter to his heart. “I’m so sorry.”

He should have told her. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, but he should have told her. She was his partner. She deserved to know. He kept making that mistake, and he hated himself for it. He smoothed the paper out and read it again. And again, and again, until he had every word memorized.

He needed to respond. She needed to know that he loved her, that he was taking care of himself…everything. But how could he possibly respond?

The door opened behind him, and he jerked in surprise as he folded the letter up quickly and stuffed it down his pants again. “Hey.” Watanabe. Okay, it could be worse. At least Watanabe knew he had the letter, so he didn’t need to hide it from him. “Came to get the tray.”

Ren checked to make sure the letter was stashed away before standing and turning to face the warden, leaning back on his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. “Thank you,” he said softly. His cheeks were wet. When had he started crying? He wiped his face quickly, clearing his throat. Despite everything that had happened the day before, Watanabe was the closest thing he had to an ally here, and he needed to cultivate that connection. Well, at least that was something he was really good at.

Watanabe cleared his throat, looking down at Ren’s feet as he collected the tray and stepped back. “Didn’t, ah. Didn’t expect to see you moving around.”

“Just can’t win, can I?” Ren asked with a little smile. “Moving or staying still.”

Watanabe paused a moment, searching Ren’s face as if he wasn’t quite sure if the younger man was joking. Then he smiled as well. “Sure, guess not.”

When he was sure the warden was as relaxed as Ren was ever going to see him, the teenager cleared his throat as he held Watanabe’s eyes. Barely moving his lips, he whispered, “Pen? Pencil? Anything?”

The older man frowned, his eyes darting around as if he suddenly couldn’t look at Ren. “Can’t,” he mumbled back. “Too dangerous.”

“Won’t use it as a weapon,” Ren whispered, desperation clenching around his heart. “ _Please_.”

Watanabe shook his head, but there was a hint of doubt around the edges of his expression. Ren wondered what he was thinking about that put that look on his face, and he pressed the slight advantage he could sense. “Pretend you dropped it. Won’t get in trouble if found, then.”

A series of complicated expressions crossed Watanabe’s face, and Ren tried to decipher them, to no avail. There was just too much going on, too fast. Then the warden picked up the tray and turned away, heading for the door. Just as he was about to step out, something hit the floor with a clatter, rolling under the bed. Watanabe didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge the sound as he closed the door firmly behind himself and locked it.

Ren didn’t move for a few minutes, hope suddenly making his knees weak. Had that actually worked? Did he have a writing implement now? When he thought the coast was clear, he went back to the bed and laid on his stomach on the narrow pallet, looking over the opposite end of the bed. 

There it was. A cheap plastic pen, the sort of thing bought in boxes of a hundred and easily forgotten. Ren remembered the warden had a much better pen in his breast pocket when he collected the teenager the day before. Had he deliberately brought a cheap pen this time, just in case? Glancing at the camera, Ren turned away from the pen, leaving it where it was for the moment. He’d be able to hide it properly when the lights went out for the night, giving him some privacy.

Makoto’s letter was an anchor, and now he had a lifeline in the form of a cheap pen to start pulling himself home across the churning sea.


	4. Chapter Four

Makoto rested her forehead on the café table and indulged herself in a couple of light thumps. She knew they hadn’t been working on the ‘Free Ren’ project for very long. He’d only been in prison for about a week, after all. But the Phantom Thieves had been working day in and day out to find information about the woman who accused Ren, and creating links with Ren’s friends, and getting information about the Phantom Thieves out into the world. In short, they were all exhausted. Makoto, as the head of the Thieves in Ren’s absence, took the brunt of the work on her shoulders.

Someone put a mug on the table next to her head, and Makoto looked up a little at Boss. The older man looked pretty tired himself; he’d been reaching out to his old government contacts, finding his way through the morass of bureaucracy to put a good word into the right ears for his boy. He’d complained to Makoto once that he’d left the business of government for a reason, and Ren was the only thing important enough to haul him back into that swamp.

“I think it’s going well,” Boss remarked, sitting opposite her with his own mug of coffee. “Lot of people hearing what you have to say. That sort of talk travels through the right channels, and things start happening.”

“It’s just…so _slow_ ,” Makoto complained, wrapping her hands around the hot ceramic mug. “I miss the old days of the Phantom Thieves, when we could take things into our own hands and make them happen. We saw results, country-shaking results, in days and weeks. Not weeks lingering into _years_.”

“Yeah, well,” Boss grunted with a chuckle. “Out here in the real world, change is a lot slower.” He sipped his coffee, looking at her over the rim of his mug. “Besides, results coming that fast upends everything. Slower changes allow people to get used to the ideas, so they don’t balk at what you’re doing.”

“I guess,” Makoto sighed, sipping her coffee. She took a moment to breathe in the soothing steam, forcing herself to relax a little. There was time. They had time.

The bell jingled as the door opened and closed, and Makoto frowned a little to herself. She didn’t have any other meetings set up for the day, and the regulars had very quietly stopped coming in as the Thieves ran their work out of the main restaurant. Makoto felt really bad about Sojiro’s loss of revenue. Or at least, she had felt bad about it until Haru confided that she was renting the café from Sojiro on a weekly basis until the Thieves had Ren out of prison. Makoto couldn’t comprehend having that sort of money, but she was grateful that Haru was quietly making sure Sojiro was recompensed for them using his café as their office.

Sojiro looked at the door and smiled as he stood up. “Sae-san,” he greeted as he headed behind the counter. “What can I get for you?”

Makoto’s shoulders tensed as she stared down at her coffee mug, her lips pressing tightly together. She hadn’t been home or talked to her sister since Sae told her about Ren’s personal sacrifice. She knew it was a little childish, but she absolutely blamed Sae for Ren being in prison now. She was the one who gave Ren the ultimatum and made him feel like he had to throw himself on his sword in order to save the other Thieves.

“The house blend, please,” Sae said, glancing over at her sister. She could see the tension in Makoto’s shoulders; going by that, and the fact that Makoto hadn’t gotten up to say hello to her, she was going to guess that Makoto was still angry with her. While she could and did defend what she’d done, she also understood why her little sister was so angry.

Walking over to Makoto’s table, the older Niijima sister sat across from the younger, putting a couple bags on the table between them. “Makoto,” she greeted quietly.

“Niijima-san,” Makoto replied stonily, refusing to look up at her or the bags. Apparently, the coffee was fascinating.

Sae flinched at the cold greeting. Makoto had never been so cold and distant; when she was angry, she tended to lash out with a fast blow-up that just as quickly cooled down into apology. She considered, not for the first time, how being a Phantom Thief had changed her sweet little sister. Though, based on Ren’s comments throughout their “conversation” in the interrogation room, becoming a Thief had only brought out what was always there. Now _that_ was an odd thought. Blowing out a breath, Sae smiled her thanks at Sojiro as he brought her the coffee. “I wanted to check in on you,” she ventured. “You haven’t been home in a week.”

“I’ve been busy,” Makoto returned, her tone unchanging. She sipped her coffee and put it down on the table. “It’s easier to be in the thick of things while I’m working.” She looked up at Sae, her eyes cold. “Speaking of, I have a lot to do. Did you need something?”

Sae nudged the bags toward Makoto. “I brought a few of your things from home,” she said quietly. “So you can feel a bit at home while you’re working.”

Makoto blinked a few times, looking between Sae and the bags. Her eyes softened a little, and Sae allowed herself a moment of hope. Then her little sister nodded, standing up and collecting the bags. “Th-thank you,” she said quietly. Then she was gone, whisking the bags and coffee up the stairs into the attic bedroom.

Sae’s shoulders sagged as she stared down into her coffee mug, breathing slowly in an effort to control her emotions. She wasn’t used to being stonewalled by her sister, and she wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt.

“Sae-san,” Sojiro murmured. When she looked at him, he indicated the door with his head as he walked toward the front of the shop. She took the hint and picked up her mug, following him out of Leblanc and down the street a little way. Once he was well away from the shop, the older man lit a cigarette and leaned against the low wall behind him.

“I’m sure you think I’m foolish,” Sae said with a heavy sigh as she leaned against the wall next to him. “I certainly feel foolish, trying to get my little sister’s attention.”

“She’s very nearly a woman,” Sojiro remarked. “When’s her birthday?”

“April,” Sae replied promptly. “The 23rd.”

“And she’ll be eighteen then?”

“Yes…” Sae sighed. “Yes. I see what you’re saying. She’s essentially an adult already.”

“I’ve been watching her lead the Phantom Thieves for the last week,” Sojiro remarked, looking up at the sky as he let the cigarette dangle between his fingers. “She’s met with politicians, reporters, government workers of all stripes, and a few of Futaba’s hacker friends. She’s kept the Thieves together, even when tempers run short because everyone is overworked and exhausted.”

“What are you saying, Sojiro?”

“I’d say she’s already an adult,” Sojiro said. “An adult who’s working very hard to help the man she loves, however she can.” He shrugged. “Everyone handles things their own way. But I’ve found it’s easier to interact with her as another adult.” He drew in a lungful of smoke and blew it up at the sky as Sae considered that idea.

“That’s really hard to do,” Sae admitted softly as she cradled her cup to her chest. “She’s always been my little sister. A child, someone I’ve had to watch over.”

“Sure,” Sojiro agreed with a nod. “Making the transition is hard, almost damned impossible. I’m having a hard go of it with Futaba, and Ren to a lesser extent. But she won’t be a kid forever, and if you want to maintain a relationship with her, it won’t hurt to start making the shift now.”

“She’s angry with me,” Sae whispered, staring down at her coffee.

“Sure. She blames you for Ren being in prison.” Sojiro sighed. “That’s between you two, but I’d recommend talking about it at some point.”

Sae scuffed her heel against the pavement under her, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to approach her.”

Sojiro finished his cigarette and led the way back to the café. “She’ll want another cup of coffee soon,” he offered. “I’m sure she won’t kick you out if you come bearing coffee.”

That was a thought, and something that reminded Sae almost painfully of their father. She’d certainly taken the chance to talk to her father on more than one occasion when she brought him coffee in his office. She managed a shaky smile as Sojiro held the door open for her and leaned against the counter as he made two new cups of coffee, one for each sister. Then he handed them over and leaned back, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Go on, then,” he prompted.

Sae snorted softly, shaking her head. She could certainly see where Ren and Futaba had learned the art of the pointed comment. But she finished the cup she’d started earlier, set the empty mug down, and carried the two fresh mugs toward the stairs.

Makoto was sitting on the futon, her face buried in Buchimaru-kun’s fur as she held the stuffed panda close. “I’ve missed you so,” she was mumbling to the stuffed animal as Sae walked quietly into the room. Sae had to smile; her sister was on the cusp of adulthood, and had crossed over in many ways. But she still needed her Buchimaru-kun.

“Hi,” Sae said softly, clearing her throat from the top of the stairs.

Makoto jerked violently, looking up at her sister with wild, surprised eyes before she settled a little. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, gently putting Buchimaru-kun on the bed next to the pillow.

Well, it wasn’t the worst greeting she’d ever gotten from her sister, so that was a step up, at least. “I come bearing coffee,” Sae ventured, gesturing carefully with the mugs.

The younger Niijima sister considered the elder for a long moment, her face carefully unreadable. Then she nodded and got up, clearing a few things from the table before sitting down and gesturing Sae to the other seat. “Did Sojiro send you with a refill?” she asked, her mask carefully not cracking.

“He made us both coffee,” Sae said, sitting opposite Makoto and wrapping her hands around the mug. Her fingers felt unnaturally cold. All right, she couldn’t beat around the bush much longer. It wasn’t like her, like them. They always handled things in an upfront way. “You’re angry with me.”

Makoto tensed up, her hands tightening around the mug. For a second, Sae was afraid that her sister was going to hurl the cup of hot coffee across the table at her. Then Makoto exhaled slowly, clearly regaining control over herself. “Furious,” she agreed, her voice soft and edged in steel. Sae was surprised to find she recognized that tone: it was the same tone Ren used when he needed to get a point across, back when they were talking in the interrogation room. He’d managed to be a massive influence on Makoto in, what, about six months? Something like that.

“Can we talk about it?” Sae asked, keeping a close eye on the steaming mug in front of Makoto. She’d probably have enough time to duck if Makoto did decide to follow through on that impulse, but she’d have to be fast.

“What’s to talk about?” Makoto shrugged her shoulders stiffly. “What’s done is done.”

“And what you’re doing to undo it is admirable,” Sae said quietly. “Especially since you’re working within the bounds of the law. After your work as a Phantom Thief, I imagine the grindstone of justice grinds very slowly.”

“Justice,” Makoto scoffed softly.

Sae tilted her head to the side slightly. “Yes, justice.”

“You call what happened to Ren _justice_?” Makoto met Sae’s eyes, and Sae had to fight to keep from flinching back from the fire in Makoto’s eyes. “He was framed by Shido, long before he came to Tokyo. He lost _everything_ because some horrible adult didn’t want to take responsibility for his actions, and blamed it all on Ren. _That’s_ the real reason he’s locked up now. Not because of the Phantom Thief thing. If you marched us down to a court of law right now and presented the testimony Ren gave you – under the influence of drugs, _I might add_ – as evidence that we’re the Phantom Thieves and you knew exactly how we operated, you’d be laughed back out onto the street. He’d never be arrested for that, or at least he wouldn’t be convicted by any judge with a modicum of sense. He’s in jail for ‘violating his probation’, and the justice system is selling it as catching the leader of the notorious Phantom Thieves.”

Sae pursed her lips, looking down at the mug of coffee. “Our society is built on a certain respect between the stewards of the law and the general population,” she said quietly. “If it became known that the law couldn’t touch the Phantom Thieves, we’d have a hundred copycats by the end of this year. It would be chaos, to put it lightly.”

“What you did to Ren wasn’t justice,” Makoto said, emphasizing every word. “All right, so society couldn’t look to the Thieves as heroes. Fine, there are a million ways to spin that. But you facilitated the system taking revenge on a teenager who dared to have the courage to stand up against the adults people like you turn a blind eye to.”

Any protest died in Sae’s throat. Because Makoto was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She’d been forced to examine her actions since the day of the interrogation, looking back at who she had become because of her perverted sense of justice. She didn’t like it, didn’t like any of who she’d been. “I did,” she admitted quietly, looking down at her hands. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I…may have been wrong.” No, that wasn’t strong enough. “No, I _was_ wrong.” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t know how much help I can be in working to clear his name, but…if there’s anything I can do. Let me know?”

Makoto met Sae’s eyes, searching her sister’s face intently as the older woman squirmed under the close scrutiny. Putting other people under the microscope was literally her job description, so it didn’t happen to her very often. And Makoto had a very penetrating sort of stare that made Sae feel like she was standing completely naked, unable to hide. Then Makoto looked down at her hands, nodding slightly. “I’m still mad at you,” she said.

“I’m not surprised,” Sae agreed quietly. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for a while, if at all.”

“Right.” Makoto huffed out a breath. “Okay. As long as we have that straight.”

Sae caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned a little to look at the window, frowning slightly. For just a second, she was sure she’d seen something darting in and out of the window, but by the time she looked, there was nothing there except a small triangle of paper on the windowsill.

“What’s wrong?” Makoto asked, turning to look as well.

“I thought I saw something at the window,” Sae said with an uneasy little laugh.

Makoto got up and went over to the window. “Why on earth is this open?” she asked, closing the window. “It’s just too cold…for…it…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the triangle of paper on the windowsill. Then she sank onto the bed, grabbing at the paper clumsily. “No, how…?”

“What?” Sae asked, going to her sister and trying to see the triangle she was clutching to her chest.

“I…” Makoto’s eyes were filled with tears, and Sae realized her sister was shaking. “I wrote. Wrote a letter to Ren. A few days ago. I never meant to do anything with it, but I needed to, needed to write it. And then it disappeared off the windowsill overnight.”

“And now you’ve found it again?”

Makoto shook her head, opening her hands. “It’s different,” she whispered.

Frowning, Sae looked at the folded triangle in Makoto’s hands. She was familiar with Makoto’s habit of writing notes and folding them up in triangles to pass them along. At first, she thought this was something along those lines, but it was off enough to make her look closer. Then she realized she could read part of a letter, written in Makoto’s handwriting, on the outside of the note.

“This isn’t how I fold paper,” Makoto whispered. “And the letter is inside out.”

“Do you think…?” Sae didn’t dare put words to the sudden thought: had Ren somehow gotten a letter out?

Makoto covered her face with both hands, breathing raggedly as she tried to think. None of this made any sense. She’d lost the letter she’d written, and now, here it was again, but turned inside out and folded in a way that reminded her of Ren’s careful origami folds. “I…I don’t know,” she whispered, letting her hands drop into her lap.

She had to just rip the Band-Aid off. Exhaling sharply, she snatched up the triangle and fumbled it open, smoothing the wrinkles out carefully. It was definitely the letter she’d written, complete with the tearstains from her outbursts of emotion. She had her own handwriting facing up, confirming it was actually hers. Then, blowing out a breath, she turned the paper over and rested it on her lap, staring down at the new addition.

That was absolutely Ren’s handwriting. He tended to write with a little bit of a flourish to the ends of his words, though his handwriting was nearly perfect. She traced her fingertips over the lines, carefully crammed onto the page, her hand shaking as she tried to absorb what she was seeing.

“How did he even get this?” Makoto whispered. “How…I didn’t send it. I just wrote it to get the thoughts out of my head.”

Sae, sitting next to her on the bed, shifted a little. “Maybe someone took it and got it to him?” she suggested. “Perhaps Futaba, she seems like someone with the resources to pull that off.”

“No one else ever comes up here, though,” Makoto said, shaking her head. “We used to meet up here, but we’ve taken over the main café since…since your Palace.” Futaba used to come up occasionally, because she claimed little sister rights, but she hadn’t since Ren turned himself in.

She wanted to read the letter, but it felt incredibly personal, and she didn’t want to read it with Sae sitting there. She flipped it over, covering Ren’s words and looking at Sae out of the corners of her eyes. “Could I, just…”

Thank God, Sae took the hint. She got up, putting a gentle hand on Makoto’s head. “I’ll be at home, if you need to talk at any point,” she said softly. Then she collected the empty mugs and walked down the stairs, leaving Makoto alone with Buchimaru-kun and Ren’s letter.

Once she was positive she was completely alone, Makoto looked down at the letter. “How did you get this, Ren?” she whispered, touching the paper with reverent fingertips. “If Morgana was still around…” Her throat closed up unexpectedly, and she swallowed hard. They’d lost so much in those two days.

Clearing her throat, Makoto carefully put the letter on the bed and got up, retrieving Ren’s school blazer. She’d worn it a lot over the last week, enough that it didn’t smell much like him anymore. But it was a comforting weight, and she needed all of the comfort she could get as she settled on the bed again and picked up Ren’s letter.

_My darling Mako,_

_I don’t know how your letter got to me. The person who passed it along to me wouldn’t tell me how it fell into their hands. So I don’t know if this will get to you. I hope it does, I truly do. I’m going to be a bit careful about how I phrase things, though. Just in case._

_I’m sorry. I’m truly, deeply sorry. I should have told you what was about to happen, and what the plan was. It was a moment of selfish cowardice on my part: I wanted one last memory of us before going to prison, and didn’t want to worry you. There’s no excuse for that, and all I can do is beg for your forgiveness._

_By and large, I’m doing all right in here. I’m kept away from general population, which is probably for the best with the whole PT thing. I have no idea how others would respond to that little tidbit of knowledge._

Here, there was an obvious line break, and Makoto wondered how many days it had taken him to write the letter. She had a vague idea that letters were very tightly controlled in prison, and she didn’t know how to interpret the fact that whoever gave the letter to Ren hadn’t told him how it came into their hands. Was Ren in isolation? No, he couldn’t be. No one would put a teenager into solitary confinement.

His handwriting was a bit sloppier in the next part:

            _This might take me a while to write everything out. I’m currently writing after lights out, which makes the words look messy to me. Annoying._

_Anyway. I’m eager for news from home. I wake up from dreams about Sojiro’s coffee and curry; after months of that deliciousness, prison food is more than just bland. Ick. But it’s edible, for a broad definition of ‘edible’._

_I hope you’re doing okay. I hope school and final exams aren’t pounding you too hard; I know you have a habit of getting lost in the studying. Remember to eat and sleep, all right? I get to play Morgana’s role and remind you about the existence of sleep._

_God, I miss him. I miss you. I miss everyone, and it’s only been a few days. I don’t know how this is going to be for me. I’m going to try to keep from going maudlin on you (not like you need that extra bit of emotional weight), but it’s lonely in here, left alone with my thoughts. I asked one of the guards about visiting hours, and he just laughed at me. I think that means I don’t get visiting hours._

He _had_ to be in isolation, then. Makoto’s heart sank into her stomach. Most prisoners got visiting hours, she knew that for sure. “How can they possibly justify putting a teenager into solitary confinement?” she asked the open air. Predictably, she didn’t get an answer, and she went back to reading.

            _Anyway, I think that’s enough emo from me for now. And I’m running out of room on the paper._

_I love you, Mako. I’ve loved you since the beginning, but being here alone has really distilled that emotion down to a perfect concentration. I miss you, desperately. I keep thinking I’ll open my eyes and be in bed next to you, and we’ll laugh as I tell you the awful dream I had. But I think this is the reality, for the moment. I’ll make it through, though. Promise you that. :)_

_I promise I’m taking care of myself. Take care of yourself as well until I can come help take care of you._

_I love you, with all of my heart._

_Ren_

She was crying again, soft little hiccupping sobs that dripped tears onto her hands. She was careful to keep the tears off the paper this time, though. She didn’t want to risk smearing even a single letter Ren had written.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. “Oh, Ren. I miss you so much.”

Makoto sat like that for a long while, holding the letter in her hands as she cried softly. At last, at long last, she carefully put the letter under Ren’s pillow and wiped her face. The others needed to know. She didn’t know if it would work again, if whatever transportation magic had exchanged the letters would happen again, but they had to try.

_M: Guys, I got a letter from Ren._

_R: Dude, really?!?!?! How??????_

_Y: I imagine the usual way, Ryuji. The postal service is an excellent tool._

_M: No, actually. I wrote a letter the first night he was gone, and didn’t mean to send it. I had it folded up on the windowsill, and it disappeared. Today, the same letter reappeared, with his letter written on the other side._

_F: WOAH. That’s like some Portal magic or something!_

_H: Do you think it will happen again?_

_M: It might._

_A: OMG! Maybe we can write a letter together? It must be hard to get stuff in to him…_

_M: He said that a guard laughed when he asked about visiting hours. So I’m guessing he’s in solitary confinement._

_[Long break in the conversation, where several people are writing all at once but no one sends anything.]_

_H: That’s absolutely barbaric. He’s a teenager, for heaven’s sake!_

_Y: If we look at it from their perspective, however, it makes sense._

_F: The hell, Inari?!?!?!_

_Y: The mundane authorities have no idea how we work. They don’t know we have been barred from the Metaverse and are unable to use our Personas. Our dear leader is a loaded gun as far as they are concerned, and it is logical to keep a dangerous weapon behind locked doors, away from the other prisoners._

_R: Man, I effin’ hate it when you get logical and actually make sense._

_Y: Thank you?_

_R: It wasn’t a compliment._

_M: Guys._

_R: Sorry, Mom._

_Y: I must apologize as well._

_A: The POINT is, we might be able to reach him and send him messages while we’re working to get him out of there._

_H: Does he know we’re working to get him out?_

_M: I didn’t mention it in the first letter, but we can certainly put it in the second._

_M: In fact, it’s not all that late. Why don’t you guys come over so we can write him a letter?_

_H: That’s a lovely idea. Why don’t I have the driver collect you, Yusuke and Ann and Ryuji?_

_R: Ain’t gonna catch me sayin’ no to a ride in a fancy vehicle!_

_A: It probably IS more efficient…_

_Y: Thank you, Haru, that sounds wonderful._

_H: We’ll be by for you soon!_

Smiling to herself, Makoto put her phone away. She glanced at Ren’s phone, sitting on the desk by itself, and sighed quietly. “Your phone is going to be packed with messages when we eventually get you out of there,” she said with a chuckle.


	5. Chapter Five

Kaito rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the assignment board. Someone clearly hated him. He’d been doing his best to avoid the kid (for there was only one “kid” these days) the last several days. That was fairly easy, since the rotation meant other people fed Amamiya and the other isolation prisoners. But every solitary confinement prisoner got an hour in the exercise yard every week if they behaved, and today was Amamiya’s turn. And of course, because the gods hated him, he was the one assigned to walk around and around the yard with the kid.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head as he glanced at the clock. Almost time; the solitary confinement prisoners got their hour in the yard when the normal prisoners were eating lunch. Didn’t want to risk cross-contamination.

Well, maybe it was all for the best. The cat had delivered another letter that morning, its tail floofed out happily as it gave Kaito the big hopeful-eyed stare. He really needed to give the cat a name. Kiki, maybe. That made him smile as he began collecting the things he’d need to take Amamiya out to the yard.

Amamiya had begun to act more like a normal person in prison since the letter exchange. He was a hell of an athletic kid; he’d found a spot in the ceiling that he could thread his shirt through and use it as a chin-up tool. So he did that a fair amount, showing off impressive muscles for a teenager his age. When he couldn’t be bothered to do that, he paced the length of the cell over and over again, occasionally reaching up as high as he could to tap the walls. Kaito didn’t get that at all, but it kept Amamiya busy, so he wasn’t going to argue.

Amamiya’s continued requests for books from the library had originally fallen on deaf ears, but he really was a persistent kid, and the prison library started hearing about his requests. The librarian had come to talk to Nakamura, suggesting that a teenager in solitary really did need something to occupy his mind. The head warden scoffed at the idea at first, but when Amamiya just kept asking, Nakamura threw his hands up and said it couldn’t cause any harm, fine, give the little glasses nerd his damn books. So now he had a small stack of books next to his bed.

Sighing to himself, Kaito walked down to the solitary confinement cells and unlocked Amamiya’s. Might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. He didn’t like thinking too much about the kid. That started him down a rabbit trail of whether or not the Phantom Thieves were right, and he didn’t have time or mental energy for questions like that.

Amamiya was laying on his bed with his head facing toward the door, holding a book over his head and reading. When he heard the door open, he pushed himself down the bed with his feet and let his head drop backwards to see who it was. He smiled as he recognized Kaito, rolling onto his side and gracefully kicking his legs through the air before planting his feet on the floor as he sat up. “Watanabe-san,” he greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Hasn’t been all that long,” Kaito grunted. “It’s your turn for an hour in the exercise yard. Move it or lose it.”

“Then I suppose I’d better move it.” Amamiya carefully used a thread from his shirt as a bookmark before setting the book aside and standing up, presenting his hands in front of himself for the manacles.

The exercise yard manacles were set up on a belt, to keep the prisoner’s hands locked close to his body. Amamiya held still as Kaito strapped everything into place before attaching the leg irons. Then he bounced on his toes experimentally a couple times before nodding. “Shall we?”

“You are the weirdest kid I’ve ever met,” Kaito muttered, rolling his eyes as he opened the cell door and led the way toward the door leading to the exercise yard.

“A lot of people say that,” Amamiya agreed, taking the longest steps the chains allowed. He tripped a couple times, trying to learn how long they were, before settling into a rhythm.

“Doesn’t that bother you? Being called weird?” He didn’t know why he asked; he didn’t want to get involved in the kid’s life. But he was weirdly interested.

Amamiya shrugged. “Yeah. Wouldn’t it bother anyone? But it’s been the background radiation of my life for so long, I don’t really register it anymore.”

That was…oddly sad. Kaito pondered the idea of being considered so strange for so long, it didn’t really register anymore as he led Amamiya to the door and unlocked it. It was a cold day in early January, cold enough that Kaito wished for a coat as soon as they stepped outside. Amamiya had slipped on the thin shoes kept by the door for the prisoners, and he looked a bit like a slender ghost in his prison uniform with the white shoes on his feet. He didn’t seem to notice the cold. Instead, he tipped his head back and breathed in a massive lungful of air, a look of utter contentment on his face.

Kaito gave him a moment to adjust to the outside light and air before tugging lightly on the guide chain. “Can’t spend the whole time standing around sucking air,” he grumbled. “C’mon, it’s freezing out here.”

“Is it?” Amamiya obediently stepped forward, finding his rhythm again as they started the walk around the yard. “I suppose.” He hooked his thumbs in the manacle waistband as he walked, looking around the area in mild interest.

Really, there wasn’t much to see. None of the cells had windows leading to this area, so the only windows facing the yard belonged to various offices and watch stations. The guards on the watch posts were aware that the famous Phantom Thief was in the yard today; Kaito caught more than a few watching them through binoculars.

Amamiya didn’t seem to notice. Or if he noticed, he didn’t care. He seemed content to walk in silence, accompanied only by the jingle of his chains. At least the cold air brought some color to his cheeks.

Usually, Kaito preferred to escort prisoners in silence, going so far as to growl at prisoners who wanted to get chatty. But there was something about Amamiya’s silence that made him want to talk. He cleared his throat and grabbed for the first thought that occurred to him. “So. Phantom Thieves? Where did that name come from?”

The corners of Amamiya’s mouth turned up, and he glanced sideways at Kaito. “Thought you weren’t interested in all of that.”  
  
Kaito rolled his eyes. “My kid sister is obsessed with you lot. She’s very upset you’re assigned to my block and she can’t come visit. So finding out bits of knowledge the general public doesn’t know will make her happy.”

“Tell her thanks, from me,” Amamiya said. There was something about the way he said that…Kaito couldn’t pin down why, but there was a seriousness to the set of Amamiya’s mouth that told him the kid wasn’t just being gracious.

“She’ll be thrilled to have a personal message from the leader of the Phantom Thieves,” Kaito said dryly.

“She may have helped us save everything, if she was aware of us on Christmas Eve.”

The words hung there in the air as the two of them kept walking. Amamiya didn’t look at Kaito, and his shoulders were tense. Actually, all of his body language indicated something pretty serious; he wasn’t plodding along anymore, content to breathe in the air. His stance was somewhere between a soldier freshly home from the battlefield and a gymnast about to perform in the Olympics. He was watchful, almost paranoid, and poised for anything. Kaito realized the kid was balanced on the balls of his feet as he walked, almost bringing him up to Kaito’s height.

“Is that a statement you’re going to explain, or are you just saying that to be mysterious?” Kaito finally asked.

Amamiya sank down onto his heels, clearly reeling himself back from somewhere. “You don’t remember what happened, so there’s no point in me trying to explain.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Kaito clearly remembered Christmas Eve. He’d worked, then gone to the shops and gotten the last things they needed for dinner the next day. There hadn’t been anything spectacular.

“As I said,” Amamiya said with a small shrug. “There isn’t much point in explaining. What happened, happened. And then the world reset, as if it had never happened, and only the people closest to me remember what happened at all.”

“I’m upgrading you from ‘weird’ to ‘cryptic’,” Kaito grumbled, shaking his head.

“I’ve been surrounded by cryptic people for months, it was bound to rub off eventually.” Amamiya kept walking, the light breeze ruffling through his hair as he tipped his head back and sighed a little. “Phantom Thieves was never the full name.”

“Sorry, what?” Kaito blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with the sudden topic shift.

“The Phantom Thieves. We didn’t have a name the first time we went into the Metaverse, but once we understood the rules, we decided we had to have a name.” Amamiya smiled slightly. “And code names in the Metaverse, because we didn’t want to risk the Shadows hearing our real names and passing them along to the Palace rulers. It was a slim risk, but we didn’t want to take it.”

Kaito considered that. “You do realize I don’t understand most of what you just said, right?” he asked.

“I’m counting on it,” Amamiya returned, a hint of a cocky smile touching his face.

“Whatever, kid. I’d still lay good money that you really picked code names because it’s cool.”

Amamiya laughed out loud, a shockingly merry sound in the middle of the gloomy prison. “How old is your sister?”

“Sixteen. Why?”

“Because you understand the teenaged mind.” Amamiya shot Kaito a grin that was surprisingly chummy. “We did mostly choose names because of the security thing. But we spent a lot of time talking about what names we wanted, because we needed them to be cool.”

“I _knew_ it,” Kaito crowed. Okay, he had to ask. “What’s your code name?”

Amamiya paused a moment before shrugging. “We can’t access the Metaverse anymore, so I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’m Joker.”

“Why Joker?”

“Partially because of the shape of my mask. Partially because of a quirk in my abilities.” Amamiya sounded a bit cagey, and Kaito supposed that made sense. They were venturing into the sort of territory that could make Kaito an accessory to the kid’s crimes. “Anyway. Our full name was ‘The Phantom Thieves of Hearts’. Because we stole the distorted desires of people who hurt those who couldn’t fight back, and it was easier to say we stole hearts than to say we stole distorted desires. Phantom Thieves stuck in common vernacular, because it’s short and easy to say. ”

“Stylish,” Kaito said. He meant it to be slightly insulting, but it came out a little more admiring than he’d intended.

“Everyone remembers something that’s stylish,” Amamiya agreed easily. “It’s why everyone loves stories about gentlemen thieves.”

“What, like Robin Hood?”

A strange expression crossed Amamiya’s face for just a second. If he didn’t know better, Kaito would swear the kid had just been punched in the gut. He didn’t know _why_ , though. Damned weird kid. “Sure,” Amamiya said quietly. “Like Robin Hood, or Goemon, or Arsene Lupin. People like those stories.”

The conversation ended there as they continued walking, Amamiya staring down at the ground.

He’d apparently managed to hit a sore spot, though damned if he knew why or how that worked. Still, Kaito felt moved to say something as the hour drew to a close. “Hey,” he said gruffly. Amamiya glanced up at him through the dual shield of his glasses and unruly hair, and the warden cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to bother you, earlier. With the Robin Hood thing.”

Amamiya nodded slightly, trying on a shaky smile as he shrugged. “Not your fault,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

And that was that. Kaito delivered the kid to his cell, taking the restraints back and carefully passing the new letter in the process, and left Amamiya alone in the room again. On his way through the security room, he glanced at the camera feed from Amamiya’s room. The kid was laying on his side, his back to the camera, with the thin blanket pulled up over himself and his knees drawn up. As tall as Amamiya was regularly, he looked so small, all folded up like that.

It was tempting to attribute his reaction to being alone for a week in the isolation cell. Prisoners did break, and they did have strange emotional reactions to things when left alone with their own thoughts for too long. But…that explanation didn’t feel right. The kid had been remarkably controlled and calm throughout the rest of the conversation. So what was it about Robin Hood that had him reacting so sharply?


	6. Chapter Six

Futaba flopped back in the booth, her feet planted up on the edge of the café table, and glared at her laptop screen through her knees. “This shouldn’t be so _hard_ ,” she complained. “The records are all there in the justice system files, I just can’t _find_ them."

Yusuke looked up from his sketchpad across from her. “How do you know they are there, then?”

“The government works on documents, Inari,” the hacker sniffed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Ren was arrested and charged and went through juvie court, just like any other prisoner. Even with Shido working his influence in the background, the documents have to exist. And if the documents exist, that lady’s name will be on them.”

“Why don’t we look at it from a different angle?” Haru suggested, putting a mug of Futaba’s favorite drink next to the younger girl’s laptop. “Maybe Shido had the documents buried so deeply, they’ll be nearly impossible to find.”

“What angle are you thinking?” Futaba asked, perking up and crossing her legs under herself as she grabbed the mug and sipped. “We need to know who she is, that’s the only way we can get her to recant her testimony about Ren.”

“I know,” Haru agreed. “But it may be possible to work from the human angle. A couple of us could go to his hometown and work backwards. Perhaps speak with people who knew him then, and see if we can figure out where everything happened.”

Futaba brightened at that idea. “If we can find the spot, we can figure out which security cameras might have seen it. We know the date; I can watch all of the security footage from that date for that camera, if I know which one it is.”

“It’s possible there might not have been a security camera, though,” Makoto pointed out from behind the counter. She was putting Boss’s teachings to work, making a batch of curry for everyone. It wouldn’t be as good as Boss’s, but she thought it would do well enough. “Ren’s from a small town, after all. We’re used to a million security cameras here in Tokyo, but that may not be the case in his hometown.”

“If there’s a security camera anywhere nearby, I’ll find it and the footage,” Futaba vowed. “We should be able to use an image to find her.”

“Who’s going to go?” Makoto asked.

“I suggest Yusuke and myself,” Haru said. “We can afford to take the time off from school, and people may listen to us.”

Futaba translated that in her head as “money talks, and Yusuke is shockingly persistent when on a mission”, which was probably at least close to what Haru meant by the comment. “Shouldn’t I go?”

“No,” Makoto and Haru said at the same time. Haru waved a hand gracefully at Makoto, deferring to her, and Makoto finished, “We need you here. All of your programs are on your home desktop, and there’s not much to be gained by you being there, is there?”

Futaba sighed, dejected. “I guess,” she admitted. “I’m just…”

Makoto came around to Futaba’s side of the table, wrapping an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“I just…I…” Futaba sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her cheekbones. “Feeling a bit useless at the moment.”

“You’re not useless,” Makoto murmured. “If anything, you’ve been the most effective of us.”

Futaba sniffled, resting her head on Makoto’s shoulder. “But none of the leads have panned out. I haven’t had anything solid this whole time.”

“Which is also useful. Now we know which paths won’t work, so we can focus on what might work.” Makoto rested her cheek on Futaba’s hair. “Really, Oracle. You’ve been working so hard, it’s amazing.”

In spite of herself, Futaba smiled at the use of her code name. She hadn’t heard it in weeks, and she missed that part of her identity. “I guess,” she mumbled.

“I know,” Makoto returned. “Really.”  
  
“And there’s a fair number of things you can do from here when we go to Ren’s hometown,” Haru added with a bright smile. “Wouldn’t it be better if we can tap immediately into whatever security camera we find? Can you create a program like that?”

Futaba sat up slowly as she considered that, staring at her laptop screen. “Maybe…” she said, drawing the word out as she tapped her fingers on the table. “And I should be able to get that small enough to fit on a phone.” With that, she dove into her laptop and started working, tuning everyone else out.

Makoto chuckled and nodded to Haru, silently thanking her friend for helping Futaba. Haru nodded back, her eyes shining. “Are you using some of my vegetables? For the curry?”

“Yes,” Makoto said, lifting the container marked with Haru’s elegant handwriting. “Boss already prepped them.”

Haru beamed in delight. “I hope they add a certain something to the food,” she said.

“I think they will. I know I’ve sure missed having them as snacks in the Metaverse, and they always made me feel better.”

“Any vegetables you feel inclined to share, I am always happy to take them off your hands,” Yusuke murmured, not looking up from his sketchbook.

“I don’t even _like_ vegetables, and I like yours,” Ryuji said from his corner, setting his manga book aside and yawning as he stretched. “How long until dinner?”

“Another twenty minutes or so,” Makoto replied, smoothing her hands over the front of her apron after finishing the final preparations. “Everything just has to simmer now. I’ll be right back.” It had been a while since the last letter from Ren, and she couldn’t stop herself from popping upstairs now and again, just to see if the portal magic thing had worked and brought another letter.

Haru looked up at Makoto, a worried little pucker appearing between her eyebrows. She didn’t say anything, but Makoto had learned a lot about the other third-year’s expressions in the last weeks: Haru was worried about Makoto’s obsession with the letters. But she probably wasn’t going to say anything about it. Good, because Makoto wasn’t about to stop hoping and checking. Shooting Haru a reassuring smile, Makoto headed up the stairs, shoving her hands into her skirt pockets.

Was she being unreasonable? She didn’t think so, not when it had been a while since the last letter and they didn’t know what the radio silence meant. But maybe she was obsessing over the whole thing. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she walked into Ren’s room.

What little concern she had over the whole situation disappeared when she saw what she’d been hoping for on the windowsill: a neatly folded triangle of paper with her handwriting on the outside. Letting out a little gasp of delight, Makoto hurried over to the windowsill and scooped it up, closing the window against the cold. After the first letter, she’d taken to leaving the window unlocked, but whoever or whatever was delivering the letters never closed the damn window behind them. Well, never mind.

“Guys!” she called, dashing down the stairs. “We have a new letter!” They’d only gotten a few since the beginning, so every single one was greeted with enthusiasm. Futaba’s head snapped up almost violently, and she shut her laptop as everyone scrambled from their spots to gather around Makoto.

“Oh my effin’ God, _finally_!” Ryuji enthused, wrapping an arm around Makoto’s shoulders and leaning over to look at the paper in her hands.

“Get off me, you’re heavy,” Makoto grumbled, nudging back against him. “Sit down, I’ll read it out loud.” So she could censor out the more personal bits, if necessary, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. Perching on one of the bar chairs, she carefully opened the letter as everyone settled into Futaba’s booth and gave her their full attention.

_“Hey guys,”_ she read, smoothing her fingertips over the lines gently. She’d had to get used to his new, messier handwriting, given that he had to write the letters after lights out. She didn’t much like it – the decline in his handwriting worried her, especially since she knew how much he prided himself on presentation – but it was what it had to be at the moment.

            _“Sorry this has taken so long to get to you. There’s been some movement in the prison, which means people keep coming into my cell. Really, really annoying. Some shrink comes in every day to try and get me to talk to him. I’d really rather he leave me alone so I can write, but I suppose they’re making the effort to keep me sane in here. ;)_

_Not a whole lot to report from my end of things, really. I’m working my way through the prison library pretty quickly, and pull-ups and push-ups are getting really dull. It’s hard to be still, after all of the months we spent working our way through Mementos and the Palaces. My muscles get twitchy, and walking around the yard once a week just ain’t cutting it.”_

“I can’t imagine him being still,” Ryuji remarked softly. “Like, even when he was studying, he’d tap his fingers or check his phone or some shit.”

“He’d always run out in front of the rest of us in Palaces,” Ann agreed. “And climb things just for the sake of climbing them, the gangly little shit.”

“He must be experiencing simply the worst cabin fever,” Haru murmured, that worried little pucker appearing between her eyebrows again. Yusuke didn’t add anything, but Makoto noticed his pencil digging hard into his sketchpad, as if he could stab the prison system if he pushed hard enough.

“Keep going,” Futaba urged, scooting up to sit on her feet as she stared at Makoto over the edge of her glasses.

Clearing her throat, Makoto continued:

            _“Still, I’m learning a lot. I found a few law books, which didn’t tell me much of anything besides the fact that the legal system has all of the power in situations like mine. Really just solidifies my desire to be a politician and help sort some of this stuff out, if we’re successful in getting my name cleared._

_Speaking of, have you talked to the guy who runs the airsoft shop? Tell him I sent you, that I’m asking for a favor, and that I’d like him to use his connections. I can’t say a whole lot more here.”_

“Which means whatever connections the airsoft guy has are probably illegal,” Ann remarked.

“That sure as hell never stopped us before,” Ryuji snorted. “I’ll bet he’s connected to the yakuza. He has a visible tattoo on his neck, and he’s super grumpy and shit.”

“Sojiro is also super grumpy and shit,” Futaba pointed out. “That doesn’t necessarily mean yakuza connections.”

“Sojiro doesn’t have a tattoo,” Yusuke said, shaking his head and changing the page in his sketchbook. “I feel connections and a grumpy demeanor may be linked; spending enough time at a level that garners connections creates a certain mood.”

“That doesn’t always seem to be the case,” Haru remarked. “Ren has many connections, and he’s anything but grumpy.”

“Ryuji, have you been to this shop?” Makoto asked, taking charge. “Do you know who he’s talking about?”

“Sure, yeah, I took Ren there the first time. Then he took over the equipping part of leadership, and he got so much good shit for us, I didn’t feel the need to go back. Dude’s good at getting people to like him and give him great deals.”

That was unquestionably true. Makoto hummed as she nodded. “We can probably trade on his connections, especially if we show this man the letter. Ryuji, you and I should go talk to him when Haru and Yusuke go to Ren’s hometown. Divide and conquer.”  
  
“What can I do?” Ann asked, perking up a little.

“We need to touch base with Ohya again,” Makoto said thoughtfully. “See what leads she’s dug up, and tell her what we’ve found so far.”  
  
“I hate talking to Ohya,” Ann said, wrinkling her nose. “She always stinks of booze and makes randy jokes.”

“We’re going to go talk to a guy who probably has real guns somewhere in his shop,” Ryuji pointed out. “Wanna trade?”

“…Yeah, that’s okay,” Ann said with a sigh. “Ren makes the strangest friends, he really does.”

“And so many of them,” Futaba grumbled. “Keeping track of all of them is so _hard_.”

How in the name of hell had Ren kept track of everyone? Between his teammates and the friends he made throughout the city, he’d kept close contact with over twenty people, while working part time jobs and going to school and maintaining excellent grades. Not to mention the evenings he spent making thief tools and other assorted projects. Makoto shook her head, unsure if she was impressed by her boyfriend or mildly terrified of his abilities. “Mind if I keep going, or should I just save the rest for myself?”

That was met with a chorus of “boo”s from the collected Thieves, and Makoto chuckled as she pushed a piece of hair off her face and lifted the letter again.

            _“Let me know how things are going on your end. I’m starving for news and anything even mildly interesting. I’ve started naming the little divots in the concrete walls, that’s how bored I am._

_Overall, though, things are okay here. Far too quiet, and I miss everyone and everything in the outside world. But I’m managing okay. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do from in here; I’m sure there’s things I’m not thinking of that could help._

_I love you guys!”_

There was a line drawn underneath the last sentence, and Makoto set the letter down: the rest was for her eyes only. “Poor thing,” she murmured.

“At least he was able to get a note out,” Haru said, determinedly cheerful. “Now we can write back and help him feel a little better.”

“Always the optimist,” Ryuji said, shaking his head.

“Some people are able to see the brighter side of things,” Ann sniffed. “Even if you can’t.”

“We have a plan in place,” Makoto said before they could devolve into arguing. “It’s Sunday tomorrow; we can split up and talk to the people we need to talk to, then reconvene.” She folded the letter up and tucked it into her pocket before going to tend to the curry. “And dinner is ready.”

“Aw yeah!” Ryuji cheered, vaulting out of his seat and coming around the counter to grab the plates. He helped her serve up the curry, carrying plates out to the other Thieves.

“It won’t be as good as Ren’s,” Makoto warned them as she settled in to eat her share.

“Stop getting down on yourself,” Futaba scoffed, never taking her eyes off her screen as she wolfed the food down. “It tastes great. Different than Ren’s, which is different than Sojiro’s, and they’re all good.”

“Yeah?” Makoto asked, her shoulders relaxing as she began eating. She smiled. Yes, this was good. It didn’t taste like Ren’s, but she liked it.

They ate in silence, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts and plans. But it was a companionable silence, the sort that said they were better when they were being anti-social together. Makoto finished her meal and quietly put her plate in the sink before slipping up the stairs to read the rest of the letter that was for her eyes only. The anticipation had been killing her throughout dinner.

Sitting on the bed and wrapping Ren’s blazer around her shoulders, she pulled the letter out of her pocket and carefully unfolded it.

            _Mako, my love._

_Hopefully by now, you’re sitting up in my room, reading this. It makes a nice mental image for me, imagining you sitting on the bed or in my desk chair, reading my words. If only just for right now, we’re sharing a moment in time, a precious thing caught in a soap bubble._

_Now that it’s just the two of us…I’m not doing okay. Don’t tell the others? They need to believe I’m handling this with a devil-may-care smile. But it’s not true, and I want to be perfectly honest with you. If only so I can feel less alone, even if the feeling only lasts a second or two._

_I might be going mad in here._

Jesus Christ. She’d never heard him be so blunt and so…down? She wasn’t sure that was the right word, but it was close enough. Actually, no, she knew this feeling. She remembered how she felt in the days after her father died, how hopeless and alone she’d felt as her sister pulled away to deal with her own grief. That’s what Ren sounded like in her mind: like he didn’t know up from down, and couldn’t see a way through.

            _Maybe that’s overstating things a bit. I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, if I could only get the energy to do it. Writing these letters is about all that’s keeping me present in the moment, and I can’t ever think of things to say. Nothing changes, except for the shrink coming in now and again. I feel like maybe I should talk to the shrink, but he couldn’t possibly understand what I’ve been through. What we’ve been through._

_I’m so tired, Mako. But I can’t sleep. Not properly. “I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.”_

_Damn. I’m nearly out of room on the page, and my head is still so full._

_I will be okay, I think. Things just feel really dark right now. I know you’re working so hard out there. Thank you. That hope helps tether me down some nights._

_I love you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Write back when you can?_

_With all my love,_

_Ren_

She had to control her breathing to keep from bursting into tears. This was such a change from the cheerful first part of the letter, and she realized the forced cheerfulness was his version of a mask, held between himself and most of the Thieves. At least he let her see through the façade, let her into his deepest heart. Given his circumstances, she had no doubt that he was afraid to be vulnerable.

That _Hamlet_ quote especially worried her. He’d had nightmares after the interrogation room left him broken, the sort of dreams that woke him in a cold sweat and shaking so hard his teeth chattered together. Was he telling her, in a roundabout sort of way, that the dreams were back? She wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. After everything with Akechi (may he rot in a thousand hells) and Yaldabaoth and saving the world…she had dreams, too. And she hadn’t been through half of the things he’d been through.

Folding the letter up carefully, she stored it with the rest of them and made her slow way downstairs to wash the dishes and clean up after making the meal.

Or at least, that was the plan. When she got downstairs, she stopped at the end of the counter, smiling in astonishment as she watched Ryuji and Haru washing the dishes as Yusuke wiped down the counters. “You guys are amazing,” she said softly.

“Hey, my ma always told me that the person who made the food shouldn’t have to clean up afterwards,” Ryuji said, shooting her a grin. The smile wavered a bit at the corners as he got a good look at her. “He ain’t doing too good, is he?”

Ryuji liked to hide behind the mask of being just another sports thug, Makoto reflected. It was a really good mask, so good that she sometimes forgot just how empathetic and perceptive he really was. “I couldn’t say,” she hedged, but then she sighed and nodded. “He doesn’t want everyone to know, but…we should put extra encouragement into the next letter. Just in case.”

“Of course,” Haru agreed, that worried little pucker appearing again. “And we’ll see what answers we can find tomorrow. Maybe we’ll find the key that’s needed to unravel this mystery.”

“It is another scouting mission,” Yusuke said, looking up from his work scraping up a bit of dried curry. “Through another Palace. The stakes are high, but is that not always the case with a Palace?”

The Thieves sighed in unison, all of them clearly remembering how high the stakes had always been with the Palaces and the deadlines. “It might be harder this time, without a firm deadline,” Haru remarked.

“Then why don’t we set one?” Futaba suggested. “Just for ourselves. Might help everything feel normal again.”

“But what if we can’t meet the deadline?” Makoto asked. “We’re not in the Metaverse anymore. We can’t control the pace of the Palaces.”

“Then we set a new one. And another new one. Until we succeed.” Futaba’s jaw set in a hard, stubborn line that Makoto recognized. For not actually being blood siblings, Ren and Futaba were shockingly alike.

“Why not Valentine’s Day?” Everyone looked at Haru, who shrugged. “It makes sense. That is the next major holiday, and no one wants to spend a holiday in prison.” She glanced at Makoto, and the other third-year understood what Haru was actually saying: maybe they could free Ren in time for her to spend Valentine’s Day with him. That realization warmed her down to her toes, and she smiled at Haru.

Futaba snatched up her phone and set the timer they’d used for every Palace after the group chat properly began. “There,” she said with a firm nod. “We’ll work to free him by February 14th.”

“Man, I like having deadlines,” Ryuji said with a grin. “Feels like the old track team days, when we’d work our asses off to be ready for a meet.”

The mood was considerably lighter, and Makoto decided that was a win for the books. She walked into the kitchen and started putting the clean dishes away, waving off the protests from the others. “Can’t be too lazy, can I?” she asked with a smile. In the back of her mind, she formulated a prayer to whatever or whoever had kept the line of communication open between them. 

_Watch over him. Help him make it through until we can save him. Please._


	7. Chapter Seven

Night shift at the prison was always a coveted time slot. It was quieter because everyone was sleeping, the pay was better, and it wasn’t as dangerous. Kaito had been trying to get onto the night shift for a while (over his mother’s protests about him not being around to spend time with the family). He hadn’t succeeded yet, damn the luck, but he had jumped at the chance to cover a shift for a guard out on sick leave, so he was on the late night shift for the next several days.

That by itself would have been enough to put him in a good mood, without the news that two of the isolation prisoners had been moved to a different area in the unit. His unit still had charge of them, but the shrink who came through determined that the effects of isolation were too much for them to handle.

Neither of the prisoners were Amamiya, though. Kaito frowned to himself as he paced through the halls on an hourly patrol. What had the shrink made of the kid? The records were officially confidential, except for the doc’s recommendations. He hadn’t recommended Amamiya be transferred, though.

Whatever the shrink thought, Kaito was concerned about Amamiya. He wasn’t causing problems. Quite the opposite, actually: he was withdrawing deeper into himself, getting quieter by the day. He did still write letters, so at least he was communicating with someone, but he didn’t smile easily anymore. He seldom worked out, and he’d slowed down on his reading. Once or twice, Kaito had watched him start a new book, read a few pages, then put it away again.

He paused a moment outside Amamiya’s cell as he passed it. He hadn’t talked to the kid for a while, not since the last letter a few days ago, and he was concerned. Should he check in? He pursed his lips and shook his head, continuing down the hall. He’d check in when he was back on day shift.

A scream split the air, a sound so inhuman that Kaito instinctively jumped to defend himself, every hair standing on end as he looked around wildly. Calling that sound a “scream” was like calling Mt. Fuji a pleasant little hill; it was a howl, a sound from the deepest corners of pain and fear that a human could possibly experience. Then the sound stopped, cut off abruptly, and Kaito stood up from the half-crouch as he tried to figure out who had screamed like that. He had a bad feeling he already knew.

The man in the other isolation cell called out sleepily, trying to figure out if they were under attack or something similar; he wouldn’t be asking if he was the one who made that unearthly sound. Which left Amamiya as the only possible source.

Rubbing the back of his neck to try and banish the goosebumps left behind after the scream, Kaito went to Amamiya’s door and listened intently. He didn’t hear anything at first, and almost decided to move along and let the kid deal with whatever he’d seen in his dreams. Then he heard a wracking sob, and he couldn’t leave.

Fumbling the keys off his belt, Kaito unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind himself. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the low lighting in the cell; it was a bit of a shock to the senses after the bright hallway. Once he could see again, it took him a moment to find the kid.

Amamiya was huddled under his bed, curled into a tiny ball with his fists pressed into his eyes. His whole body was shaking like a leaf, his teeth chattering. The room wasn’t cold; Kaito realized that was pure terror. As he watched, a liquid splashed onto the floor. It was too dark to be tears.

“Hey,” Kaito said softly, sitting on the floor by the edge of the bed. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. He’d never been good at the comforting thing, even with people he knew well. But he couldn’t walk away, not when the kid was clearly in a shocking amount of pain.

Amamiya flinched violently, his head thumping against the underside of the bed. “Go away,” he snapped, his voice rough and raspy. Kaito could tell he was trying to sound tough, which was somewhat undermined when another wracking sob shook his whole body.

“Can’t,” Kaito said, settling back against the wall behind him. “It’s my job to look after your welfare.”

That elicited a scoffing noise from the huddled kid, followed almost instantly by another painful sob. Amamiya slammed his fist against the floor, letting out an incoherent noise of rage and pain. “Nothing you can do. Not a goddamned thing, so _go away_.”

What _was_ it about the kid’s voice? He sounded perfectly normal most of the time, but every now and again there was something otherworldly about his voice, turning it darker and richer and _powerful_. Anytime he heard it, Kaito felt compelled to do as Amamiya said. Pressing his lips together, he shook his head firmly, pushing back against the power of that voice. He felt like a fool, but he knew Amamiya needed help, and he was the only one who was close enough and actually gave a shit. “Night terrors?” he asked quietly.

Amamiya’s head came up a little, his grey eyes glittering like a feral cat’s from under the bed. “What the hell do _you_ care?” he spat.

This was a side of the kid he’d never seen, not even after the tumble down the stairs. His rage had been controlled then, held tightly in check. This was uncontrolled, sparks flying wildly all over the place. It was off-putting, and honestly terrifying. He was more than happy to walk away and let Amamiya deal with this on his own, like he clearly wanted.

But he paused, looking intently at the kid. Because there was something about this situation that felt familiar. After a moment, he got it. Amamiya was like that feral dog his family had taken in when he was a child. None of the kids were allowed near her because she would lash out with her teeth when she was scared. His mother explained to him that when an animal was hurt and scared, they tended to lash out in an effort to feel safe. After a few months of tender treatment and coaching, she finally calmed down, but it took a lot of work.

Amamiya was exactly like that dog at the moment. Hurt and terrified and cornered, even if he’d deliberately cornered himself. And like that dog, he was lashing out to try and take control of the situation.

Kaito settled back against the wall, glancing up at the camera. He just had to hope no one was watching too closely, or there might be some weird questions later. Or maybe not, depending on what they thought he was doing to the kid. “Does this happen often?” he asked, keeping his voice mild and easy-going.

The kid shifted under the bed, wrapping himself a little tighter. He didn’t answer, clearly unwilling to open up to Kaito.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kaito continued in the same easy tone. “I’m day shift, after all. Usually gone as soon as it hits five o’clock.”

“Lucky.” The word was edged in steel, but Kaito thought he heard a little more control this time.

“Yeah, well,” Kaito grunted. “Day shift sucks. Working with Nakamura is a special sort of hell. He’s the lead warden on the day shift, and he’s a tyrant.”

Amamiya grunted, shifting and pressing his back against the wall as he hugged his knees to his forehead. Flexible little fucker, Jesus. He was still shivering like crazy. Kaito snagged the blanket off the bed and slid it across the floor to rest next to the kid. That got him a sharp look over the pointy knees, but after a moment’s hesitation, Amamiya grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself, turning himself into a tucked up cocoon. His shivers eased a tiny amount, and he exhaled.

Okay, good, that was a good start. “My sister says hello, by the way,” Kaito added quietly. “Told you, she was thrilled to get a personal message from the leader of the Thieves. I think she’s been squealing about it to her friends on that Phansite ever since. She said to tell you that they’re all rooting for you.”

At least Amamiya seemed to be listening. After the rage-filled reaction before, this was a massive improvement. Shifting a bit against the wall, Kaito kept talking, telling Amamiya about Akane and her teenaged exploits. She was a graphic designer student at Kosei High School, a tidbit of knowledge that got a small reaction from Amamiya. So he had some sort of connection to Kosei, then, that was interesting.

He shifted from his sister to his mother and grandmother naturally, telling Amamiya about how his mother worked a part-time job at a nearby convenience store, but he was the primary breadwinner in his household.

“What happened to your father?” Amamiya’s voice was small and shaking, but it was there, and the rage from before was gone. This sounded more like the kid Kaito had come to know over the past weeks.

“He died when I was a kid,” Kaito grunted. “When Akane was two.”

“I’m sorry.” Two simple words that usually didn’t mean anything coming from anyone, but Kaito shivered as the quiet sincerity in Amamiya’s voice settled into his core. “I lost my dad when I was young, too.” He paused, and Kaito heard a hint of a smile in his voice as he added, “Well. _Younger_ , anyway.”

Kaito laughed, surprised by the tiny show of humor from the kid. Good, he was getting through, that was huge. “Any time is too damn early to lose someone like that.” He sighed. “Parents, man.”  
  
“Parents,” Amamiya agreed quietly. He scooted, unwrapping a tiny bit. “You mentioned your grandmother?”

“Jiji, yeah,” Kaito sighed. He was worried about her; part of the reason he was grateful for the night shift was because he could finally get her to a doctor’s appointment to make her as comfortable as possible within the home. She was starting to lose her memory, or drift in time now and again. He explained that to the kid, unsure why he was opening up so much. But it felt good to open up to someone who wasn’t involved. His coworkers had no idea, and would probably mock him if he ever talked about it.

Amamiya didn’t mock him. He unfolded a little more, resting his chin on the backs of his hands as he looked out at Kaito. He didn’t say anything, but the quality of his silence told Kaito he was listening intently. Which meant he wasn’t thinking about whatever had haunted his dreams and gotten him to shriek like he was dying.

“There’s a doctor in Yongen-Jaya who might be able to help, at least a little,” Amamiya said after Kaito ran out of words to express his concerns and fears. “Tae Takemi. Runs a little back-alley clinic. She’s done some incredible things. Might be worth asking. Don’t let her charming personality turn you off.” He smiled wanly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Tell her I sent you. Might open a couple doors for you.”

“Are you sure?” Kaito asked, ruthlessly squishing the flutter of hope in his gut. Jiji was too far gone to have her memories restored. But if this Takemi could help her be more comfortable in her final days, Kaito would owe her forever.

“Mm-hmm,” Amamiya hummed softly. “I helped her out with some of her problems. And you’re helping me. Least I can do.” He yawned widely, resting his cheek on the backs of his hands as he stretched his long legs out.

Kaito got up carefully, not wanting to startle the kid. “You should get some sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll go talk to Takemi-san tomorrow, promise.”

“Okay,” Amamiya murmured. He scooted out from under the bed, rubbing the back of his head where he had thumped it as he settled onto the thin mattress. “Have a good shift, Watanabe-san.”

“Will do, Amamiya-kun,” Kaito said. He slipped out of the cell, locking it behind him as he squinted against the sudden light. Ugh, bright. But the kid was settled again. That was a victory. He had no idea what the kid had seen in his dreams to get that sound out of him, and he kind of hoped he’d never find out.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he made his slow way back to the security office. No one commented on how long he’d taken, or gave him any weird looks. Okay, good. He settled into his chair and pulled his phone out, looking up information on Tae Takemi. The kid didn’t offer advice often, if at all, so when he said something, Kaito paid attention.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ren closed his eyes, exhaling raggedly. Well, that hadn’t gone as planned. He’d had a few nightmares since being in prison (most notably the first night when he still had the manacles on), but he hadn’t had a screaming night terror in a while. He covered his face with both hands, massaging the tense muscles under the skin in an effort to get his jaw to relax.

It had just been so real. He thought that was the main reason this dream had managed to get through all of his usual defenses. That, and he didn’t have the automatic defense of his Personas to catch the dreams like he used to. Nope, no, now was _not_ the time to think about all of that shit, he was barely under control at the moment as it was.

Thank God Kaito was the one on duty. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be all right at the moment if the guard hadn’t made a point of coming in and talking him down off the mental ledge he’d been balanced on. His jaw tightened, and he groaned softly as his sore muscles protested the movement.

He’d been back in the interrogation room. Hurt and alone and drugged and terrified, and they kept pushing. In real life, they’d stopped when he signed the confession. But in the dream, that wasn’t enough for them. In the dream, they’d laughed as they kept hurting him over and over again, and he couldn’t stand up, couldn’t defend himself. And then Akechi was there, Akechi as he had been towards the end, the madness of Loki glittering in his eyes as he held a gun to Ren’s head. “I am thou, thou art I,” he giggled madly, his finger tightening around the trigger. “From this moment on, I will take your place, the place I should have always had. Your friends, your knowledge, your abilities…they should have been mine! I was to be the Trickster!” When Ren looked up at him, horror filling him, he saw black slime oozing out of Akechi’s light brown hair, covering his face in streaks and globs. He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound was strangled in his throat as Igor rose through the floor, changing from the old man to the god the Phantom Thieves had finally beaten at the end. He threw a chain around Ren’s neck and drew it tight, throwing him against the wall violently and holding him in place as Akechi leisurely walked across the room, twirling his gun. It was the toy blaster pistol Ren had purchased for him from Iwai, turned into a real science fiction weapon here in the place between worlds. He put the muzzle to Ren’s head again, the two of them locking eyes as Ren struggled to breathe, struggled to scream, struggled for a finger hold in the chain around his neck.

Then Akechi pulled the trigger, and Ren woke up shrieking.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Ren pressed his forehead against the cold metal shelf his thin mattress rested on. It was over. Akechi was dead. Yaldabaoth was defeated. The Phantom Thieves, backed by Igor and Lavenza and supported by the belief of the entirety of Tokyo, had won. “I’m safe,” he whispered, his voice echoing weirdly off the metal shelf.

“Safe” felt like a strange word to use in this context, when he was trapped in a cell barely big enough to turn around in, when he could feel the edges of his sanity starting to peel. But it was true, for the most part. His enemies were defeated. His friends were safe. He had faith in their efforts to get him out of here and back with his family where he belonged.

But right now, with the cold sweat still drying on his skin and occasional tremors shaking his limbs, he didn’t feel safe. Watanabe had helped ease him out of the worst of the terrors, but he was alone again, his thoughts echoing off the cramped walls. “Mako,” he whispered, his voice shaking as tears filled his eyes. “Oh, Mako…” He curled in on himself, the tears escaping into his thin pillow as he hugged it to his chest in a desperate effort to fill the gaping hole in his chest.

He fell asleep hours later, still twitching with the aftershocks of the dreams.


	8. Chapter Eight

“This is where Ren-kun grew up?” Haru clasped her hands in front of her chest as she looked around, her eyes wide. “But it’s so little!”

“After the enormity of Tokyo, everything feels tiny,” Yusuke observed, smoothing his clothes down as the driver closed the door behind the two teenagers and went to find parking. “But this is Inaba, his hometown.”

After intense discussion amongst the Thieves, they had decided Haru and Yusuke would speak to Ren’s family first and see where the thread led from there. Somewhere along the line, they would have to find someone who knew where Ren had been arrested, and they could find the nearest surveillance camera.

“I suppose I understand why he’s so quiet, now,” Haru said softly. “This whole place feels hushed.”

“It is beautiful,” Yusuke said, his fingers twitching.

Haru knew that sign; he was wishing for a sketchbook or a canvas at the moment. She chuckled and tugged her jacket down. “Let’s see if anyone’s home.” She led the way up to the door and knocked twice before stepping back and clasping her hands in front of herself.

A few moments later, the door opened, and a dark-haired woman looked out at the two teenagers. “Hello?” she greeted, confusion furrowing her brow. “Can I help you?”

Yusuke flashed Haru a look and raised an eyebrow, and Haru could only agree: Ren heavily favored his mother’s looks. From the grey eyes to the wavy black hair, she looked like an older, female version of their friend. “Hello!” Haru chirped happily. “Are you Ren Amamiya’s mother?”

The woman stared at them for a second, her face completely expressionless. Then her jaw tightened and she stepped back, closing the door firmly.

“Well!” Yusuke exclaimed, taking a step back at the sharp noise. “That was entirely uncalled for.”

“I guess she doesn’t like strangers coming around asking about her son,” Haru said sadly, shaking her head. Though with what Ren had been through, she supposed she couldn’t blame his mother that much. She stepped up to the door again and knocked firmly. “We’re friends of Ren!” she called. “From Tokyo! We just want to ask you a couple questions!”

The door flew open under her hand, and Ren’s mother came out in a furious rush, stopping when she was nose-to-nose with Haru. “Are you with the Phantom Thieves?” she asked, her voice taut with anger. “Are you some of the reprobates my son dragged into his life of crime before going completely off the deep end?”

While she didn’t have access to Astarte anymore, her friendship with Ren had given Haru the resolve she needed to stand her ground, even when an angry adult was in her face. She tipped her chin up, imagining herself back on the battlefield, and stared right back into the older woman’s eyes. “My name is Haru Okumura,” she said, her voice filled with the chilly authority her father once used to great effect. “Heir of Okumura Foods. Ren-kun is a very dear friend of mine, but I would hardly describe myself as a _reprobate_.”

Ren’s mother faltered, falling back a step as she looked away, clearly flustered by the whole situation. “Okumura-san, I…” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

How had Ren grown to have such a strong spine, when his mother clearly lacked one entirely? He truly was special, to be so willing to stand up for the weak and helpless even before he took up the mantle of the Trickster. Haru nodded regally, taking a step forward. “No, of course you didn’t,” she agreed, standing just a little too close to Ren’s mother. “How could you know?” She smiled sweetly. “I’m so sorry, Ren-kun never mentioned. What is your name?”

She heard Yusuke hiss a breath in through his teeth, and Ren’s mother’s eyes went wide as the blow hit home. Ren had never, not once, told them his parents’ names. Haru took quiet pleasure in seeing Ren’s mother realize that her son never talked about her.

“I…yes, of course,” the older woman stammered. “Hana. Hana Kurusu.”

That was very odd; Ren didn’t have the same family name as his mother? “This is Yusuke Kitagawa,” Haru said, stepping sideways to gesture Yusuke closer. “May we come in, Kurusu-san?”

Kurusu looked between the two teenagers, her expression hunted. Then she huffed out a breath and took a step backwards. “Of course,” she said weakly. “You are…welcome in my home, as you are…friends of my son.”

She had yet to call Ren by his name, a detail Haru noted with interest. Her sweet smile never faltered as the two teenagers walked into the small house and removed their shoes. At their reluctant host’s gesture, they settled around the low table in the living space.

“Would you like tea?” Kurusu asked, clearly on firmer ground with that question. “I have some mochi as well, if that interests you?”

“Tea and mochi would be delightful, thank you,” Haru agreed, thoroughly comfortable with the social dance required around the rituals of hospitality. Yusuke nodded as well, though he was clearly more interested in the room around him. Unusual for the starving artist, since he was usually the first one to pounce on offered food. But he was right; the house was interesting.

The first thing Haru noticed was a lack of any sign that a teenager had once lived there. Of course, Kurusu had had nearly a year without Ren in residence, so there wouldn’t be any stray socks or other unmentionables lying around, but it was more than that. The pictures on the wall were all of Kurusu with a man, presumably Ren’s stepfather; none of the pictures included Ren. All of the visible books were medical texts or historical tomes, and while Ren was an excellent student, Haru knew he only had a passing interest in history. The decorations were all the sort of thing Haru’s father might have purchased: they were expensive without being gaudy, trinkets that breathed wealth. They were worlds away from the cheap trinkets Ren had in his room back in Tokyo, and she couldn’t imagine him ever touching these.

Ren didn’t belong in this room, and that was a heartbreaking realization. Haru could imagine him sitting where she sat, his shoulders tense in that way he had when someone rubbed his fur the wrong way, so to speak. This wasn’t a room where she could imagine him lounging against a surface, eating a cup of ramen and watching television.

What on earth had happened between the family members to cause this sort of a chilly divide? Of course she knew Ren wasn’t close with his parents, since they sent him away to Tokyo to attend school in the one school that would accept a delinquent on probation, but this seemed excessive. She hadn’t been close to her father, but at least she was in pictures with him.

“Here we are,” Kurusu said, breaking Haru out of her thoughts as the older woman came over with a tray. “I wasn’t expecting visitors, so I don’t have many varieties of mochi, but please feel free to help yourselves.” She set the tray down in the middle of the table, kneeling next to it as she put cups in front of Haru and Yusuke.

“I’m sure whatever you have is excellent,” Haru said graciously, automatically handing Yusuke the plate of mochi. The Thieves had gotten in the habit of making sure Yusuke was fed first, since he tended to forgo eating in favor of buying art supplies. He shot her a sideways glance, but took his share without a word. He seemed to be in observation mode, taking everything in and not letting anyone see what he thought of the information until he’d processed everything.

“Very kind of you,” Kurusu said, smiling a smile that didn’t come anywhere near her eyes. She looked frightened, Haru realized. Why? What was so frightening about Ren or things connected to him?

Ren’s mother poured the tea, and Haru sipped hers. She recognized it immediately as a quality tea, since it was a brand her father often served. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, as it always did when something reminded her too closely of her father, but she covered the sudden pain with her sweet smile. “Delicious,” she said.

“Ah, thank you.” Kurusu’s eyes darted at the door, and Haru raised an eyebrow. Was she waiting for someone? “You said you had some questions about my son? What do you want to know?”

“We are part of an investigation team,” Haru said, carefully editing the information as she spoke. “We are working to track down some information about Ren-kun, especially about the…well, the incident that led to him being sent to Tokyo in the first place.”

“The assault, you mean.” Kurusu shook her head as she put her cup down. “His stepfather and I never saw it coming. Ren was always a quiet child, the sort of person who kept his nose in a book. So when we got the phone call that he was at the police station…” She sighed. “But I suppose there’s something to the idea that the quiet ones are the most dangerous.”

That was certainly true, especially in the Phantom Thieves. But something about the way Kurusu said that set Haru’s teeth on edge. “Was there ever any indication that Ren-kun had violent tendencies?” she asked, keeping her voice sweet. “He’s always struck me as a very mild person, personally.”

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s not always a good indication.” Ren’s mother frowned down into her cup. “I never saw any warning signs, either. Which is why the whole thing came as a shock, and his stepfather and I realized we weren’t equipped to handle…” she trailed off, gesturing with one hand as she tried to find the right words.

“Weren’t equipped to handle…?” Haru prompted, her eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit.

“Someone who might lose control of his temper and hurt someone?” Yusuke asked, speaking for the first time since entering the house. “Someone who might respond in a socially unacceptable way if pushed too far?” He stared at Kurusu until she looked up at him, clearly uncomfortable under his stare. “Why would that be a concern, unless someone in the household made a routine practice of pushing him too far?”

Well, she hadn’t _meant_ to go in that direction just yet, but now that it was out there, Haru was privately glad Yusuke was playing bad cop for the moment. Kurusu’s eyes opened wide in horrified shock as she shrank back from the table. “No, that’s not…don’t take that…I…” she stammered.

“Of course not,” Haru soothed, putting a hand on Yusuke’s knee in a silent signal to be quiet for just a moment. “I’m sure handling someone who always seemed so quiet would be difficult. Especially if he snapped with no provocation.”

“But he didn’t!” Kurusu blurted. “I…he…” She wet her lips and set her teacup down carefully. “I went and talked to him. After he was arrested. He told me what happened.”

“And you believed his story?” Haru asked quietly.

Kurusu rested her hands on the table, smiling a sad little smile. “Ren has always believed very strongly in justice,” she said quietly. “He read all the time, from a very young age, and his favorite books were the ones about the little guy winning against all odds against the bigger, stronger person. When justice truly won.” She looked up at Haru, her eyes pleading. “He used to get into yelling matches on the playground when people were being bullied. He never stood up for himself when he was bullied, but he was fierce in the defense of other people. So yes, Okumura-san, I believed him.”

This was possibly the most honest the woman had been with Haru yet, and Haru completely believed her. She nodded slightly, offering Kurusu a gentle smile. “Did he tell you where it happened?” she asked softly.

“Yes.” Kurusu got up and retrieved a small piece of paper and a pen. She came back to the table and drew a few quick lines on it, outlining a map and labeling the street names. Haru noticed that her handwriting was a lot like Ren’s, with the slight flourish on the ends of some characters. “Here. He told me it happened here.” Ren’s mother passed Haru the map and tapped the circle she’d drawn on the spot.

Haru took the map and leaned over to show it to Yusuke. They weren’t familiar with the streets of Inaba, but there was enough detailing on the map to make it pretty easy to follow. “Thank you,” Haru said softly, folding the paper and putting it in her pocket.

“You should probably go,” Kurusu said, beginning to collect the dishes onto her tray. “I’m sure you have a great deal of detective work to do around here, and I wouldn’t want to keep you.” As she turned her head to set the tray on the edge of the table, her hair fell away from the side of her neck, and Haru’s stomach turned painfully. The last time she’d seen a bruise like that, it was in the video of Ren-kun being viciously abused by the police.

“Kurusu-san,” Yusuke said solemnly, “have you been to see a doctor about that bruise? It looks quite painful, and may be indicative of spinal damage.”

Kurusu flinched, reaching up and pulling her hair to cover the bruise. “I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Now, unless there was something else…?”

Small wonder Ren’s stepfather wanted him out of the house. Haru stood up and shook her head. “No, thank you. Truly, you have been an enormous help.” Both teenagers bowed slightly before going to the door and retrieving their shoes.

Haru called the driver, and he met them just down the street from Ren’s house. They didn’t want to linger in front of the door for very long. Just in case.

Once they were settled inside, Haru covered her face with both hands and exhaled. “I suppose that does explain a great deal about Ren-kun,” she said, her voice a little muffled.

“He seems fated to pass from abuse to abuse,” Yusuke said with a heavy frown. “If only he could be persuaded to stand up for himself, as he does for others.”

“Perhaps we can help with that, once we have him out of prison.” Haru took the map out of her pocket and examined it. Then she leaned forward and gave instructions to the driver.

“If he is unwilling to stand up for himself, that may prove to be impossible,” Yusuke replied as Haru settled back into her seat and the car pulled away from the curb. “What does he fear, I wonder?”

“If his stepfather has been the example for a significant portion of his life, he may fear becoming like him,” Haru said softly, playing with the hem of her puffy jacket.

“Ren?” Yusuke let out a derisive snort. “I would believe any impossible thing before believing Ren could become an abuser.”

“We know that,” Haru agreed. “But Ren tends to get lost in his head. He may well think it’s possible, and so he shies away from anything that even smells like that potential path.”

Yusuke just shook his head, and Haru sighed in agreement. Every single one of the Phantom Thieves had an unpleasant family background; while that probably shaped them into the sort of people who would be willing to put everything on the line to defend others, it hardly seemed fair that they had to go through so much.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“It’s here?” Makoto asked, hovering at the edge of the alley uncertainly. She made a point of avoiding places like this since the Kaneshiro _thing_ ; dark alleys were not her favorite.

“Yeah, right down here,” Ryuji said, jerking his chin at the corner. “C’mon, he doesn’t bite. I’ve been there, and I survived just fine.”

“And then you never went back,” Makoto muttered rebelliously. But she had extended a lot of trust to Takemi without knowing her because Ren trusted the doctor. She should at least try to do as much with the proprietor of the airsoft shop. Blowing out a breath and thinking a prayer, Makoto followed Ryuji into the shop.

The shop was empty except for the man behind the counter. He glanced up from his magazine, then set it aside as he stood up, leaning against the counter as he scrutinized the teenagers. “Mornin’,” he grunted, tipping his head down so his eyes were mostly hidden by the brim of his cap. “How can I help you?”

“We just had a couple questions about your stuff,” Ryuji said, his voice a bit high with nerves.

Makoto sighed inwardly as the man’s eyes narrowed a bit. Smooth, Ryuji. “That so?” the man asked mildly. “You don’t much look like enthusiasts. Though…” He tipped his head to the side a little as he studied Ryuji. “I’ve seen you before. Been a while, but I never forget a face.”

“He was here with Ren Amamiya,” Makoto said, stepping neatly on whatever Ryuji was about to say. “If you remember Amamiya-kun?”

The man’s face brightened a bit, and Makoto let out a silent breath of relief. “Sure, I remember the kid. Came and helped me out a bunch last year.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, “Heard he got arrested.”

“Yeah,” Ryuji snorted, shaking his head. “Damn cops, makin’ things so much harder for us.”

“Mm,” the man agreed. “I’m Iwai. Any friend of Amamiya’s is welcome here. What can I do you for? Can’t imagine you’ll need any weapons, with your leader in prison.”

The words hung there, crystalizing in Makoto’s sudden horror. He _knew?!_ How the hell did he know?

“I, ah,” Makoto managed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“’Course not,” Iwai agreed companionably, his expression unreadable. “So the question remains.”

“We’re tryin’ to get Ren out of the slammer,” Ryuji said, leaning on the counter. “Tryin’ to find any leverage we might be able to get over the legal system.”

“And you came to me? My wares are barely legal as is. I’m just grateful he wasn’t carryin’ any of my stuff when he got himself caught.”

“He turned himself in,” Makoto said softly, the admission tearing at her stomach. “I don’t think he took anything with him besides his glasses and ID.”

Iwai looked at her, and she got the definite impression he was seeing more than she might be comfortable with. He stood to his full height and gestured the two teenagers behind the counter. “Come to the back so we can talk properly.”

“All right!” Ryuji took the invitation without a second’s hesitation, bounding behind the counter like a puppy with oversized paws. Makoto did hesitate a moment, glancing back out the window at the street. But Ren had been here many times, even made friends with the man. She could trust her boyfriend’s judgment.

Iwai followed them into the back and sat on a stool, his hands in his pockets. “How much did Amamiya tell you about me?”

“Almost nothing,” Makoto admitted. “We got a letter from him that suggested you might know people we could talk to, but he didn’t go into any detail about it.”

“Smart kid,” Iwai grunted. “They read all letters that leave prison, and I’d rather not have the cops know too much about my past.”

“They probably didn’t read this one,” Ryuji muttered, glancing at Makoto.

“Still, better to be safe than sorry,” Makoto said quickly, forestalling any questions from Iwai. “We guessed that your connections…may not be completely legal.”

Iwai chuckled, nodding. “You’ve got moxie. I like that. Yeah, you’re right.” He casually scratched his neck tattoo, clearing his throat. “Well, I owe the kid a favor or ten at this point. And I like him. I may be able to help. Can’t tell you how, but…I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled his phone out. “Lemme have your numbers. I’ll contact you if I find something.”

After trading numbers, the teenagers thanked him and headed out of the back room, getting ready to leave. Just as they were about to step out onto the street, however, Iwai’s voice stopped them. “So, I wasn’t gonna ask. But I’ve been havin’ nightmares about Christmas Eve. What in the hell happened?”

Makoto felt all of the blood drain from her face as she looked at Ryuji. They’d been working under the assumption that everyone except the Thieves had forgotten what happened that day. How did this guy remember? Had his connection to Ren somehow preserved his memories? That raised a few more terrifying questions, and Makoto made a mental note to send a message out to all of the people they’d identified as Ren’s friends. She turned around, clasping her hands at her stomach as she looked at Iwai. “A lot happened on Christmas Eve,” she said softly. “A lot more than I can explain in a few sentences. But…I guess the very short version is that our world was attacked by another world, and we won the battle.”

“The Phantom Thieves, you mean.” Iwai was leaning on the counter again, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Makoto from under the brim of his cap.

“Yes.” She didn’t like admitting to being one of the Thieves, but Iwai apparently already knew. She was going to have Words with Ren about spreading that knowledge too broadly.

Iwai considered that for a moment, tipping his head down to hide his eyes. Then he nodded, standing up straight. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a hell of a world, but I like it like this, not that weird bone monstrosity that it became.”

Makoto smiled, nodding a little. “It’s a rough world. But I think I agree. Thank you again, for everything.”

“Sure. Come back if the Thieves ever go back into business; I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. Even if I can’t figure out how the toys are actually useful.”

And with that, he nodded them out the door.

“Dude’s kept that under his hat all this time?” Ryuji marveled as they walked out into the main streets and headed for the train station. “Jeez, and I thought _Ren_ could keep a secret!”

“Clearly he can’t, if people know we’re the Thieves,” Makoto grumbled, sticking her hands in her coat pockets as she shook her head.

“Ugh, yeah. But, I mean, he said he owes Renren. Maybe that’ll keep his mouth shut?”

“Mm. One can only hope.” Makoto sighed. “Well, I’ll talk to him about that when we get him out. Maybe.”

“If you’re doing much talking, y’all doin’ something wrong,” Ryuji said with a grin as he nudged her shoulder with his.

“I will drop you in the nearest body of water,” Makoto threatened, blushing bright red.

“And there’s the Queen we all know and love,” Ryuji laughed. “C’mon, let’s get back home." 

Home. Makoto smiled down into her collar as they boarded the train. For the first time in a very long time, she had a place where she belonged. It wasn’t perfect, but then, nothing ever was. And as soon as they got Ren’s skinny butt back home where it belonged, it would be perfect enough for her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“…And after all that, the spot itself was quite nondescript,” Haru finished, handing Futaba her phone and settling into the communal booth. “There wasn’t a surveillance camera immediately on-site, but there were two fairly close by.”

“Hope one of them got a view of the lady,” Futaba said, plugging the phone into her laptop and sinking into her work. She’d set up hacking software that gave her real-time access to the cameras once the program scanned and locked onto the camera, and she used that to link her laptop to the databases for those cameras. After a tense moment or two, she grinned. “Good, they hardly ever wipe the logs. Guess there’s not a lot that goes on in the backend of nowhere. I’ll get the info transferred over and see what I can find.” She hugged her knees to her chest as she rocked back, looking up at Makoto. “What’d the shop dude say?”

“A lot,” Makoto said, rubbing her chin with a fingertip before telling the story. By the time she was done, everyone in the room was staring at her with their mouths hanging open.

“I think there is something unusual about the people who became close to Ren over the course of the last year,” she finished. “I can’t explain it, but he has a knack of creating connections that go beyond anything I’ve seen in the normal world.”

“He told us about the Arcana thing and how they strengthen his Personas,” Ann said, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. “Maybe…I don’t know, maybe the people who are represented by the Major Arcana have a connection routed through that weird prison place? Something supernatural or something?”

“It’s as good a theory as any,” Ryuji said thoughtfully. “I mean, I know I hit a point where I felt like we were bound together on a level that’s way beyond anything I’ve had with any friend.” He frowned. “Actually, that’s about when Captain Kidd’s true power came out, and when he changed into Seitan Teisei. When I felt a spiritual connection to our own Renren.”

All of their Personas had evolved over the course of the time they’d known Ren, and as she thought about it, Makoto realized that Johanna had changed into Anat around the time they started dating.

“That’s odd,” Haru said. “I felt much the same when Milady evolved into Astarte.”

“Same,” Futaba said, leaning back in the booth. “Inari? Panther?” They nodded, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well. I guess we can’t really know without pinning our favorite tight-lipped Joker down and asking him. Buuuuut…if we’re right and the people he connected tightly with have some sort of spiritual connection to him, there might be, like, fifteen people who remember what happened Christmas Eve.” She looked at Makoto. “Does Sae-san remember?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto admitted. “I haven’t talked to her much since…well.” Since Christmas. She had seen her sister a couple times when she went back to the house to do laundry and get a few more things to make the loft comfortable, but they didn’t exactly talk in depth.

“We should start asking,” Futaba said with a firm nod. “If they saw that…if they remember their first exposure to the Metaverse…they might be a bit traumatized.”

Makoto’s stomach squeezed at that idea. She was still angry with Sis, but not angry enough to wish nightmares on her. “I’ll send a text out to the people we’ve identified, see who remembers what,” she decided. “And then…I don’t know. Maybe we should have a curry night for them to ask questions and get an explanation of everything?”

“I think we should save such explanations for when Ren returns to us,” Yusuke suggested. “They have accepted us because we are connected to Ren, but they trust him. If we are correct in believing that his spiritual ties to them preserved their memories when the entirety of the city has forgotten, they will want to hear the explanation from him.”

“I think you’re right,” Haru agreed. “He is the one who has taken time over the past months to establish connections with them.”

“We can talk more about that when we get him out, then,” Ann said, getting up and scooting over the back of the booth to get to the water pitcher they kept filled for their meetings.

“In the meanwhile,” Makoto said, taking charge of the meeting again, “Futaba has a lot of footage to go through, and you guys have exams coming up.” She raised an eyebrow at the Shujin Academy students as they groaned wholeheartedly. “We should take this chance to study while we have some downtime.”

“Who the hell can focus on studying with all this shit goin’ on?” Ryuji grumbled.

“I guess we really don’t have anything else we can do,” Ann said as she grabbed her bag. They’d all gotten in the habit of bringing their school duffels with them to Leblanc, mostly because this wasn’t the first time Makoto had pulled the Student Council President card on them and made them study.

“I suggest a food run first!” Haru said brightly. “So we can have snacks while we’re working!”

“That’s a great idea!” Ryuji perked up. “C’mon, let’s raid the market down the way. Then we can get going on this studying shit!”

Makoto sighed but knew when she was outnumbered. “All right,” she agreed with a wry smile. “Just don’t fill up too much before dinner.” She grabbed her coat and wallet; she could do with a sweet treat herself.

A couple hours later, Boss came into the café and paused, taking in the tableau with a smile. The kids had spread out over the biggest table, snacks and drinks filling corners between books, a couple laptops, and stacks of paper. A small collection of wadded up paper clumps were scattered on the floor by the trashcan, and he was pretty sure he’d put the chairs in order before leaving to get groceries. Shaking his head, he went behind the counter and started making coffee. They looked like they were in for yet another long night. Between springing Ren from prison and their responsibilities as students, these poor kids never got a break.


	9. Chapter Nine

“No. No, I won’t, and you can’t make me.” Kimura crossed his arms and glared at the assignment board. “That kid is fucking spooky, I’m not coming anywhere near him.”

“But it’s his turn for yard time,” the assignment officer argued. “And it’s _your_ turn to walk with him. Fair’s fair, Kimura!”

“ _No_. He’ll fuckin’ hex me or something with that witch look of his.”

Kaito walked into the office, one eyebrow up. He’d been able to hear most of the argument from down the hall. “Jesus, yell a little louder, why don’t you?” he suggested. “Tell the whole prison you’re scared of a skinny little teenager.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Kimura said, giving Kaito an evil look out of the corners of his eyes. The look changed to a considering one as he turned to face Kaito head-on. “Hey, why don’t you take the prisoner puppy for a walk?”  
  
“Ain’t my turn, and it’s raining,” Kaito returned. “I don’t want to go outside.”

“Yeah, but he behaves for you.”

“Behaves” wasn’t quite the right word. Kaito had taken over bringing food to the isolation cells since Amamiya’s screaming nightmare. The kid seemed to be doing a little better, or at least no one else had reported screams, but he barely touched his food and didn’t move off his bed. “What, does he go for the jugular with other people? C’mon, he’s an under-exercised teenager who’s dealing with isolation cabin fever. You should be able to handle that with a hand tied behind your back.”

“I’ll owe you a massive favor,” Kimura offered, clearly desperate to fob off the responsibility onto someone else. “One favor, of your choice.”

“I dunno…” Kaito drawled. In all actuality, he didn’t mind spending time with the kid. But if he looked eager to take the job on, someone would figure out that he was fond of Amamiya, even worried about him. He couldn’t afford that.

“And I’ll buy you lunch,” Kimura bargained. “At a restaurant around here.”

There were a few very nice restaurants in the area that catered to nearby government buildings, and Kaito hummed thoughtfully. “Fine,” he said with a massive sigh. “And I’m gonna be thinking about what that favor’s gonna be.”

“Thank you!” Kimura beamed as he shook Kaito’s hand firmly. “Thanks so much!”

The assigning officer let out a dramatic sigh. “If the high school drama is done for the day, ladies?” he asked dryly. “I think we all have work to do. Watanabe, have the kid ready to go in an hour.”

“Sure thing,” Kaito agreed, tipping two fingers off the brim of his cap in a sarcastic little salute before heading out to get a couple smaller duties done so they’d be out of his way. Actually, this worked out pretty well. He’d gotten a new letter to Amamiya right after coming off night shift, and if he had the kid’s schedule down, he should have a new letter ready to go.

Forty-five minutes later, he opened Amamiya’s cell and walked in, carrying the manacles. “It’s that time of week again,” he said with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. The kid was still in bed, the thin blanket wrapped around himself as he stared up at the ceiling. At first glance, he kind of looked like a mummy from an Egyptian display.

Amamiya blinked a few times very slowly. “Already?” he asked. His voice was soft and raspy, with none of the vivacity and color that Kaito associated with him. “That was fast.”

“I guess the days sorta blend together after a bit,” Kaito agreed, closing the door behind himself. “C’mon, time’s a-wasting. And it’s raining, that’ll help clear the cobwebs out a bit.”

“Oh.” Amamiya sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor. Then he frowned. “I’m supposed to go outside in the rain dressed like this?”

“Nah, we have a coat for you.” Kaito shrugged. “Look, it only comes up once a week for you, and the powers that be don’t want to reschedule yours, in case it keeps raining longer.”

“Okay.” Amamiya slowly got to his feet, wincing.

“Haven’t moved around in a bit?” Kaito asked, wincing in sympathy. “You should, you know. Keeps your muscles from getting locked up.”

“Yeah, I know.” Amamiya shrugged as he held his hands out for the manacles. “Don’t really feel like it.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you have to make yourself do things you don’t want to do, to stay sane.” Kaito paused before using the one big gun he had: “What would Mako say?”

Amamiya’s whole body jolted as if he had been struck by lighting, and he looked up into Kaito’s face for the first time, his eyes wide and shocked. He looked like Kaito had slapped him, hard. “I…” He cleared his throat, looking away as his jaw worked. “She’d be rather annoyed with me.”

Kaito nodded as he fastened the manacles into place. “And she’s someone you’d rather not annoy, isn’t that right?”

A ghost of a smile touched Amamiya’s mouth. “I’d rather annoy her when I mean to,” he murmured. He rolled his shoulders as he took the weight of the chains, shifting them into something like comfort. Then he shot Kaito a quizzical look as the guard opened the door. “No leg irons today?”

“Nah, not when it’s raining,” Kaito said, leading the kid out into the hall. As he turned, he found a camera’s blind spot and murmured, “Letter?”

Amamiya’s hand lightly touched his, passing a piece of paper that was folded up in the familiar triangle. Kaito nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket with a practiced little movement. “All right, let’s get you suited up.” He grabbed a heavy jacket from the hook by the door and put it around the kid’s shoulders, pulling the hood up over Amamiya’s unruly curls.

“I feel like a little kid again,” Amamiya remarked, wrinkling his nose as he looked up at the hood. Then he stepped into the shoes, settling them on his feet as best as he could. They never fit him quite right, but they were close enough.

“I’d prefer to just hand you a sweater and an umbrella, but rumor has it you’d probably be deadly with something solid like that in your hands.” Kaito opened the door and sighed as he pulled on an oilcloth coat left there for the guards. “God, it’s pissing down out there.”  
  
“And we’re the lucky ones who get to spend an hour out there,” Amamiya agreed, hunching his shoulders a little as he looked out at the pouring rain. “Well, better to get it over with.” He stepped out into the yard, breathing in the cold air. “Not too bad, actually.”

“Save the brave-faced bullshitting for someone else, kid,” Kaito grumbled as he stepped out into the yard and closed the door behind them.

“You’re too sweet.” Amamiya seemed to be coming back to himself, at least a little. The activity and fresh air were working wonders on him, and Kaito spared an angry thought for the assholes who thought it was better to keep him locked up in a tiny cell away from natural light.

They started walking around the yard together. Unhampered by the leg irons this time, Amamiya was able to easily keep up with Kaito’s long strides. “I suppose I should move around in the cell more often,” he said over the sound of the pouring rain. “It’s just hard to motivate myself.”

“You have long legs,” Kaito returned. “Hard to be motivated when you can cross the whole cell in three strides.”

“That’s being generous to the size of the cell,” Amamiya grunted. He shook his head, water droplets flying in every direction. “But you’re right. Really hard when I’m literally going around and around in circles.” He sighed, a deeply heartfelt sound, and Kaito felt a pang of sympathy for the kid.

Ren closed his eyes as they walked around the large yard. His muscles burned and twanged, a definite sign that he’d been still for entirely too long. He couldn’t stop hearing Watanabe’s question: What would Mako think?

Of course he wouldn’t know Makoto’s full name. Ren was very careful to keep his personal life as private as possible. It still came as a shock to hear his affectionate nickname for Makoto from Watanabe. More to the point, though, he was right. Makoto would smack him stupid for wallowing like this. He could almost hear her telling him to keep fighting, to keep his chin up, to remember he wasn’t alone.

Except he was. He tried to keep the thoughts at bay as much as he could, but the main reason for the morass was the bone-deep loneliness. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t find a book engaging enough to distract him, and he couldn’t fix the problem. Hell, he didn’t have any sort of guarantee that the problem _could_ ever be fixed. He might stay in that prison cell for the rest of his life, and that was a _terrifying_ prospect. He’d only been there for…what? Three weeks? He frowned, trying to recall how long he’d been there.

“How long have I been in prison?” he asked when he realized he couldn’t pull the days far enough apart to actually know.

“Hmm?” Watanabe seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. “Oh. About five weeks, total.”

Holy shit. He’d really lost track of time, hadn’t he? He used to have such an accurate internal clock, but… Well. Isolation. It was tearing his mind to pieces, bit by bit, and he was tired of fighting it.

Over the sound of the rain, Ren thought he heard another door open, and he frowned slightly as he lifted his head, looking around. He didn’t recognize the man who stepped out into the yard to meet them, but the sudden tension in Watanabe’s posture told him this was someone to be wary of.

“Nakamura-san,” Kaito greeted, thinking a long string of curse words as the warden stopped directly in front of them, forcing them to stop. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“Nope, not a thing,” Nakamura said with a smirk, looking the kid up and down. “Just wanted to get a look at my famous prisoner. Been with us a month, and I’ve never seen it in person.”

 _It?_ What the hell? Amamiya shifted a little, one foot sliding back subtly. From anyone else, it might have looked like nerves, but Kaito knew what it looked like when someone who was trained shifted into a combat-ready stance. That was bad enough on its own, without adding in the fact that Kaito was pretty sure Amamiya wasn’t aware of making the shift. It was pure instinct, and that could lead to a million problems. “Mind if we keep walking while you look?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral and bored. “I’m starting to sink into the mud, and that shit takes forever to scrub off.”

“Oh please, by all means,” Nakamura agreed, stepping out of the way and leaning against a nearby wall. Out of the rain, the lucky bastard.

Kaito nudged Amamiya firmly, knocking the kid forward a step and breaking his combat-ready stance. The kid gave him a look that should have flayed all of the flesh off his bones, and Kaito’s heart thudded in his throat. Something about Nakamura had put Amamiya into a mental place where he was willing to fight, no matter what the consequences were.

But after an eternal second, Amamiya took a step on his own. Then another, and another, settling back into his normal walking stride.

Nakamura watched them intently from his hiding spot under the eaves, chuckling to himself. Okay. Yes, this was actually very bad. Nakamura seemed intent on pushing the kid’s buttons, and Amamiya had been alone too long. God only knew if he still had his filters in place.

“Try to be calm,” Kaito murmured to Amamiya when they were as far from Nakamura as it was physically possible to be in the yard. “He’s provoking you on purpose.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to take,” Amamiya replied, and Kaito swallowed against a sudden lump of fear in his throat. He had _that_ voice again, the deeper, darker, dangerous tone.

“I know,” Kaito replied. “But sometimes you have to go along to get along.”

Amamiya glanced sidelong at him with the most disdainful expression Kaito had ever seen on his face. “That’s how we get corruption in power,” he replied.

“Fighting back won’t do any good. Not here, and not now.” They were getting too close to Nakamura; Kaito shut up as they approached the warden.

“So apparently, there’s been a bunch of teenagers talking to influential people,” Nakamura remarked, tapping a riding crop gently against his palm as the pair came into easy earshot. “They’ve been raising all sorts of hell out there. Organizing the protestors, talking to the press, making sure everyone thinks Shido was just the scum of the earth.” He shook his head and spat, the glob of spittle landing on Amamiya’s shoe.

To his credit, the teenager didn’t react. His mouth twitched a little, but Kaito couldn’t tell if he was hiding disgust over the spit on his foot or delight that someone out there was pushing so hard in his name.

“That so?” Kaito asked, striving to keep the bored tone. “Think there’s going to be more protestors cuz of them?”

“Fuck, I hope not. We’re having a hard time keeping a lid on them as is,” Nakamura grumbled. He sounded genuinely upset about that, which meant he wasn’t focused on goading the kid. Good, that was good. Maybe Amamiya could keep his temper if the warden wasn’t able to get any good shots off.

The pair continued around the yard, and Amamiya let out a shaky little breath as he closed his eyes briefly.

“You’re doing well,” Kaito murmured. “C’mon, you’ve dealt with bullies before, haven’t you?”

“Far too many,” Amamiya agreed softly. He clenched his hands into fists before hooking his thumbs into the manacle belt. His legs were wet, and his glasses were spattered with rain. Being wet didn’t seem to bother him, not at the moment. Kaito wasn’t sure if that was good or not; he’d rather have the kid grumbling about being wet over having to defuse a ticking time bomb every time they made the circuit around to where Nakamura was standing.

“But I hear some interesting rumors!” Nakamura crowed cheerfully as they approached him. “Supposedly, there’s an investigation ongoing into the kids involved. The cops think they might be the rest of the Phantom Thieves.”

Amamiya stopped dead in his tracks, his hands wrapping tightly around the manacle belt as if to keep himself from flying to pieces. He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips tightly together and visibly forced himself to keep walking.

“So what?” Kaito asked, breathing a silent sigh of relief that he hadn’t had to get between his boss and the kid. “The Phantom Thieves haven’t been doing anything since the kid got arrested. They’re defunct now, everyone says so.”

“Doesn’t save them from paying for their past crimes,” Nakamura chuckled.

That was a parting shot that almost got Amamiya to turn around. Kaito held the chains tightly, refusing to allow the kid to do something stupid. “Stop,” he said through his teeth. “Don’t.”

“They can’t go after the others,” Amamiya whispered fiercely. “They _can’t_ , that was the _deal_.”

Yeah, but people lied all the time. Shit. This situation was spiraling a lot faster than Kaito liked. He blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Letting him get under your skin won’t keep them safe,” he whispered back. “Try to trust that they’ll be fine without you. They have Mako, yeah?”

Ren gave the older man a Look out of the corner of his eyes, but subsided a little. Yes. They had Makoto, who was linked to Sae. If nothing else, Sae would warn them in time to get them underground and away from danger. That was the _deal_. He had sacrificed himself specifically to keep his teammates safe. If the cops went after the Thieves after that…God, he didn’t know what he would do.

He dreaded turning the corner and walking down that gauntlet again. He could kill Nakamura. It would be shockingly easy, especially since his feet were free. He’d lost muscle tone in the last several weeks, but he thought he was still strong enough to leap onto Nakamura’s back and strangle the warden with the chains attached to his wrists. He could see the whole scenario play out in his mind, and he had to forcibly remind himself that the Thieves wouldn’t be able to get him out if he actually killed someone.

What was it about Nakamura that put his hackles up so badly? He had only seen the enormous man for a handful of minutes in his life. Maybe it was because Nakamura reminded him of the worst of the adults he’d met in his life. Especially Kamoshida. Actually, that was almost certainly it: Nakamura was like the PT teacher who had ruined so many young lives because he had power over them. Ren considered Kamoshida the worst Palace ruler the Phantom Thieves had taken on, even though he was the first.

Ducking his head down a little, Ren let his wet hair cover his face as he tucked deeper into the hood. He was getting cold, and was beginning to hope he could go back to his cell soon to warm up.

“Who knows?” Nakamura asked, and Ren could hear the sneering smile in every syllable. “Maybe they’ll all end up in our loving care. So close to each other, and yet so far away. Their precious short lives wasted.”

Ryuji. Ann. Yusuke. Haru. Makoto. _Futaba_. Ren’s blood boiled as he imagined his friends, his _family_ , being stuck in these tiny cells. Futaba already struggled with depression thanks to the asshole adults in her past. Rage pounded through him as he turned to look at Nakamura, flicking his wet hair off his face so he could level the full weight of his glare at the older man. “You have no reason to touch them,” he said, his voice low and carefully controlled. “You have me. _I’m_ their leader, they followed _my_ orders. They’ll be out of your hair now.”

Nakamura pantomimed surprise as he looked down at Ren. “Oh, it does talk!” he crooned. “What a funny little pet we have here, Watanabe!”

Watanabe didn’t answer. Ren hadn’t expected him to, not when he believed in going along to get along. And to be fair, Nakamura was an enormous man, easily a head taller than Ren. He was very physically imposing, and he held all of the control in that situation.

Unfortunately for the peace of the moment, Ren was accustomed to being tiny compared to Shadows, and the Palace Ruler always held control over the very world around them. This wasn’t a new situation for him, and he wasn’t about to back down in the face of a bully. “Leave them alone,” he said, his voice taut.

“Or what?” Nakamura asked, stepping closer and looming over Ren. “You’ll steal my heart?” He snorted, and Ren had to fight back the automatic flinch of disgust as bits of spittle and snot landed on his face. “I don’t have one to steal, kid.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ren replied, his voice coldly dangerous. “Your twisted desire for power and influence makes up the core of who you are. That is your heart.”

Nakamura’s face went completely still for a second. Then he slammed a hand against Ren’s solar plexus, sending him staggering backwards as he fought for balance. “Take the brat back to his cell,” he ordered Watanabe. “Actually, no. _I’ll_ take him.”

 _Shit_. Kaito felt his heart drop into his toes as horror filled him. No, Amamiya really shouldn’t be alone with Nakamura. “I’ve got him under control, sir,” he said. “I’m sure you have more important things to tend to."

“Nope. At this moment, this might be the most important thing on my plate.” Nakamura grabbed Amamiya’s arm, hauling him across the yard. To his credit, the kid actually did a pretty good job of keeping up, but he was clearly struggling. Kaito watched, helpless to do anything to stop it.

On the one hand, the kid kind of deserved it. He knew how to hold his tongue, and he hadn’t. But…Kaito rubbed the back of his neck as he trudged toward the door they’d disappeared through, unable to shake the feeling that he’d just failed a test of some sort.


	10. Chapter Ten

The mood in Leblanc was glum, to say the least. Futaba was still compiling the data from the security cameras, everyone was exhausted and grumpy, and the overwhelming sense in the building was that they’d hit a brick wall. Nose first.

The biggest problem was that they couldn’t _do_ anything. They’d run through all of their contacts, and now all they could do was _wait_. Wait for the data to compile, wait for Ohya to help them track down leads, wait for Yoshida to speak to the right people. For people accustomed to taking matters into their own hands, the enforced break was about to murder them.

“This _sucks_ ,” Ryuji complained for the billionth time as he dropped his head onto the table and let his manga book fall onto the floor.

“Yep,” Ann agreed, unwrapping a straw and tying the wrapper into a neat little knot before putting it on Ryuji’s head. “Just like the last fifty million times you said it.”

“I can’t help it!” Ryuji swatted the straw wrapper off his head with a scowl before propping his elbows on the table and letting out a massive sigh. “Futaba?”

“Don’t even ask,” Futaba warned him, glaring over the edge of her screen. “It won’t compile faster because you whine at it.”

“You can’t do _anything_ to make it faster?”

“If I coulda, I woulda three hours ago.” Futaba threw a pencil at him. “Chill out. Maybe go for a run or something? Burn off some of that energy?”

Haru looked up from her book, her head tilting slightly to the side as she considered her teammates. Then she marked her place before setting the book aside and excusing herself quietly. Makoto, tucked up in a back corner with her college exam studying material, watched her go out the front door with a puzzled little frown.

“In this rain?!” Ryuji demanded. “Are you nuts? I’d catch my death if I go running out there, and then where would we be?”

“You are disturbing the sanctity of this place, Ryuji,” Yusuke scolded. He was sitting at the counter, working on something that he hid from view every time someone got too close to looking. “Futaba is right, you need to find a productive way to spend your energy.”

“Now that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear,” Futaba muttered.

“Why the hell you all gangin’ up on me?” Ryuji demanded, scowling around the room. “Jeez, that ain’t fair!” He scooped up his manga book and slouched deeply into his seat, holding the book up as a shield between him and everyone else.

“Stop whining,” Ann snorted, rolling her eyes.

Well, this was going swimmingly. Makoto carefully marked her pages and closed her books, organizing them into a neat stack with her pencil case on top. Then she got up and cleared her throat, asking for everyone’s attention. “Guys, I know this hasn’t been easy,” she said, slipping her hands into her pockets as everyone looked at her. “Believe me, I’m as tense and anxious as you are, and I want this to go far faster than it possibly can. But lashing out at each other isn’t going to help. What would Ren say if he were here?”

Ryuji put his book down, covering his face with both hands. “Man, that guy,” he said with a deep sigh. “He’d listen and listen, and finally ask one question that cut to the heart of everything and make us see just how dumb we’re being.”

“Yeah,” Ann said, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “He’d probably remind us that anything worth having is worth waiting for. And we’re still a couple weeks out from our deadline; we have time.”

“Ren…” Futaba murmured, probably more to herself than anyone else. She scooted up in the booth, wrapping her arms around her legs as she balanced on the balls of her feet.

“He has a calming aura to him,” Yusuke said, nodding. “But I feel certain he would call us out, much as he did when I was in the depths of despair over my work and its reception.”

“I know it’s hard,” Makoto said, leaning against the dividing wall between booths. “But we’re making progress, even if it’s slow and painful.” She believed that with all of her heart; she couldn’t allow herself to believe anything else. “So let’s focus on that, okay?”

Everyone nodded or mumbled their agreement, and Makoto let out a breath as she let herself relax a tiny bit.

Then the bell jangled and Haru came back into the café, grinning as she shook water out of her hair. “All right, it’s all arranged!”

The Phantom Thieves turned and stared at her, everyone wondering the same thing but no one daring to ask. Finally, Makoto broke the silence: “What…what’s all arranged?”

“Put your things away, everyone,” Haru said. “Yes, even you, Futaba. We’re going on a field trip!”

“But…my stuff…!” Futaba protested.

“You said you can’t make it go any faster, no matter what you do. So it’ll keep working without you here, correct?”

Futaba squirmed. “I mean… _yeah_ , I guess…”

“So let it work without you for a bit!” Haru beckoned with both hands, taking a step back towards the door. “Come, everyone, come! The driver will be here shortly!”

“Sweet!” Ryuji exclaimed, popping up out of his seat with a grin. “I’m down for anything that means a ride in that great car!”

“I get to ride in the car for once!” Futaba cheered, slipping her shoes on and getting up as well.

The Phantom Thieves started milling around, grabbing their jackets and umbrellas as they chatted excitedly. No one could figure out what Haru was up to, but she was very pleased with herself about whatever it was. After some light arguments over which umbrella was whose, they all piled out onto the street and met Haru’s driver.

“It’s so fancy!” Futaba crowed, looking around with shining eyes as she scooted into a corner next to a window. “And he _held the door_ and _everything_!”

“Lap o’ luxury, this,” Ryuji agreed, sitting next to her and leaning to look out the window. “I could get used to this!”

“I believe anyone could,” Yusuke agreed. He didn’t look terribly thrilled at the moment, probably because he’d been dragged away from whatever he was working on, but at least he wasn’t complaining. That counted for a lot, in Makoto’s book.

“So where are we going?” Ann asked as she settled in next to Haru. The door closed behind the girls, and a moment later, they were off and on their way.

“That’s a secret,” Haru said with a grin as she rested her hands in her lap. “But I think you will all enjoy it.”

This was coming from the same girl who thought nothing of renting out the entirety of Destinyland for a night, Makoto realized. Which meant that literally anything was possible. She smiled at her teammates, already feeling better than she had in a while. “Yes, I think we needed this,” she said. “Some time away from the grindstone.”

“Exactly!” Haru agreed, nudging her shoulder gently against Makoto’s.

Determined to keep their minds off of Ren and the ongoing quest to save him from prison, the Phantom Thieves talked about anything else they could think of on the car trip across the city. Privately, Makoto was glad Haru had them picked up; this would have been an eternity on public transit.

At last, the car pulled into a small parking lot, and the driver came around to open the door for them. “We’re here!” Haru said happily as she stepped out of the car with a nod of thanks to the driver.

“Where’s ‘here’, though?” Makoto asked, stepping out of the car with the others and looking around. They were surrounded by industrial buildings, which didn’t tell her a whole lot about what was going on.

“You’ll see!” Haru was practically dancing on her toes as she led the Thieves around to the front.

Ryuji spotted the sign first. “ _Laser tag!”_ he shouted, punching the air in delight. “Hell yeah! I haven’t played laser tag in _ages_!”

“Oh my God, _really_?!” Ann squealed.

“That’s right!” Haru said, grinning as she opened the door for her teammates and held it open. “And we have the place to ourselves the rest of the day!”

“You rented this whole establishment for the day?” Yusuke asked, looking around the main room.

“Really?” Makoto wasn’t surprised that Haru had rented a whole place for them; that was sort of par for the course for the other third-year when she decided she wanted to treat her teammates. But laser tag? “Why laser tag?”

“We haven’t gotten to do anything purely physical since Christmas Eve,” Haru said, shaking her umbrella out before hanging it on a hook by the door. “After all that time in Mementos, the inactivity was driving me slowly insane. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it was for those who have been involved longer. So I thought, well, why not something where we can run around with guns and shoot at each other for hours?”

Impulsively, Makoto pulled Haru into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means the world.”

Haru returned the hug, smiling up at Makoto when they drew apart. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Come on! Let’s go shoot each other!”

Makoto laughed as Haru grabbed her hands and dragged her to the desk.

The attendant had apparently been filled in on who, exactly, had booked the place. He was stiff as a board and obviously terrified of saying the wrong thing. Haru didn’t seem to notice, and Makoto wondered what the world looked like through her eyes. She seemed to have a massive blind spot when it came to how people treated her because of her money.

After the attendant dropped the plastic cards for the third time, Makoto took over getting everyone signed in and into their rigs. It went without saying that everyone took their Phantom Thief names as their code names in the system, and it did her heart so much good to look at the rank board and see their names up there.

Futaba tested the weight of her gun and frowned. “I’m not very good at games like these,” she warned everyone. “So whoever my teammates are, I’m sorry?”

“That’s right, we should assign teams!” Haru said, buckling herself into her rig. “It’ll be okay, Oracle, we’re not used to this anymore either. We’re just here to have a good time.”

“We can’t do boys versus girls,” Ryuji said, hanging his gun off his belt and grinning at everyone. “Without Joker and Mona, we’re a bit outnumbered.”

“We can trade off teams, though!” Ann pointed out. “We’re not tied to anything, really.”

“Let’s start with boys versus girls, and the boys can choose one girl to be on their team,” Makoto decided.

That was agreeable to everyone, and Ryuji and Yusuke descended into an intense debate over who they’d steal to be on their team. Finally, “We want Haru for this round,” Ryuji declared.

“Hurray!” Haru cheered, bouncing over to their side.

The attendant let them into the arena, running down the safety rules as he activated the rigs and assigned each of them to a team. “Be careful with the ramps,” he warned them. “We’ve had people twist their ankles because they run up and down the ramps between the floors. And have fun!” He seemed to have calmed down a little, which was good. They were going to be with him for the long haul.

“Wow!” Futaba looked around the room, her eyes wide. “This is MASSIVE!”

“Temporary truce!” Ryuji yelled as Makoto unholstered her gun. “Let’s take up positions on opposite sides of the room, then go for it!”

“That sounds fair,” Ann agreed, grinning at Ryuji. “You’re going _down_ , Skull!”

“Bring it, Panther!” The two of them took off in opposite directions, the flashing lights on their rigs painting the walls in alternating colors.

“Let’s do this!” Futaba cheered, taking off after Ann.

Makoto followed, finding the rhythm she used to use in the Metaverse to pace herself so she didn’t run out of energy. The place really was massive, with ramps leading between floors. As far as she could tell, the room was about three stories high, but the floors weren’t aligned with normal room heights. It was a twisting maze of walls, windows, and grates, and Makoto felt right at home.

The furthest edge of the playing map had a series of turrets, and Makoto carefully peeked over the edge, looking for any sign of the boys and Haru. “Ready?” she called, projecting her voice to be heard through the whole room. It had great acoustics, which surprised her.

“Ready!” Ryuji called back. “Give us the count, Queen!”

“Three…two…one!” She ducked behind a turret just in time, hearing someone’s gun go off as she got behind cover.

“No fair!” Ryuji yelled, laughing. “Marauders, let’s get ‘em!”

Futaba disappeared around a corner, and Makoto shook her head as she and Ann started making their way toward the other side. Then Makoto’s chest vibrated, and she yelped as she looked around wildly. She caught a flash of color through a window as someone dashed past, and she shot at it.

“Queen!” Haru exclaimed, laughing. “You’re too fast!”

The round swiftly devolved into chaos, with strafing runs becoming the most common tactic. Ducking around a corner to catch her breath, Makoto spared a moment to wonder where the heck Futaba was. Then she heard Yusuke yelling and looked up in time to see lights disappearing in an upper corner. She grinned. Trust Futaba to find a sniping position.

At the end of the ten-minute round, the girls had won by a healthy margin, thanks to Futaba’s sniping trick. Laughing and dripping sweat, the Thieves took their rigs off to get a water break.

“New rule,” Ryuji said, stretching as they walked out of the arena area. “Oracle ain’t allowed to pull that Hawkeye shit.”

“Oh, come on!” Futaba complained, shoving him. “That’s the only way I can compete with you athletic meatheads!”

“Who are you referring to as a ‘meathead’?” Yusuke asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Makoto was about to step in, but stopped dead in her tracks as they walked into the main room. “Haru?” she asked, her voice squeaking a bit.  
  
“Yes?” Haru asked, materializing at her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Did…did you arrange for food for us?” Everyone stopped behind Makoto, taken aback by the table of snacks and drinks laid out in the entry hall.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot to mention.” Haru smiled in delight. “I thought it would be a good way to catch our breath and refresh a little between rounds.”

“Talk about a flashback to the safe rooms!” Ryuji said with a grin as he went to investigate the selection. “Man, you thought of everything, Haru!”

“I hope so!” Haru looked up at Makoto. “Is it all right?” she asked softly.

“It’s as close to perfect as it could possibly be,” Makoto replied just as softly, giving Haru another hug. “Thank you.”

They spent the next three hours alternating between ten-minute rounds and snack breaks. Ann joked at one point that they’d have to find a wheelbarrow to take her home in, because she’d eaten nearly her weight in snacks. While there was a bit of a learning curve outside the Metaverse, the Thieves found the sweet spot pretty quickly and reveled in the pure physicality of their games.

As promised, they traded teams between every round, working through every configuration they could think of. Oldest vs. youngest, support vs. heavy hitters, and quite a few free-for-alls.

By the end of their time, everyone was exhausted and happy. Of course, there was always the unspoken knowledge that they were missing two very important people, but for the first time since Ren’s arrest, Makoto felt they were whole again. They’d gone through the last weeks as shadows of their normal selves, barely recognizable anymore. They’d needed some time to play, to run, to laugh, to find their footing again in a world that had broken and reset.

“We need to do this again,” Makoto murmured on the car ride home. She opened her eyes and looked around the car, smiling affectionately. Futaba was sprawled across Yusuke and Ann’s laps, fast asleep, and Ryuji flopped in the space between the seats to rest his head on Haru’s leg.

Haru looked up from petting Ryuji’s hair affectionately to nod, resting her head against Makoto’s shoulder. “I think so,” she agreed. “This was very good, for all of us.”

“You made a good call,” Makoto said with a yawn. She reached down and tapped Ryuji’s temple as the car came to a stop. “C’mon, guys, we’re back at the café.”

“God, I still have to catch the train,” Ryuji grumbled as he slowly pulled himself up.

“Me too,” Ann yawned, sitting up and stretching. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Makoto said, checking her watch. “Why don’t you guys just spend the night? We can have a sleepover.”

“Ohh, really?” Haru asked, brightening. “Are you sure it won’t be an intrusion?”

“As long as Boss doesn’t kick us out, I can’t imagine why it would be a problem,” Makoto replied, getting up as the driver opened the door for them.

“I can have sleeping supplies brought to the café,” Haru offered. “So no one has a bad night’s sleep.”

“That will not be an inconvenience?” Yusuke asked as the sleepy Thieves piled out of the car.

“Not in the least!” Haru beamed. “Though I’m sure we’re sleepy enough to turn into puppy piles on the floor if needed.”

“You’re not wrong,” Futaba yawned. “C’mon, let’s make puppy eyes at Sojiro.”

Sojiro was behind the counter watching television when the kids came in. He turned and looked at them, taking in their exhausted smiles. “Had a good day, then?” he asked, smiling.

“The _best_ ,” Ryuji enthused, pouring himself into a counter chair and resting his head on the cool wood. “Haru treated us, and it was awesome.”

“You guys look all in,” Sojiro observed. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to ride the train like that? You’ll probably fall asleep and miss your stops.”

“We were actually wondering if we could have a sleepover up in the loft,” Makoto said as Futaba made a beeline for her computer. “So no one has to make the long trek back home.”  
  
“Make sure you text your families,” Sojiro said sternly, looking at Ryuji and Ann. “But sure, I don’t see a problem with that. You sure there’s enough blankets and pillows and stuff?”

“I’m having more brought as we speak,” Haru said, beaming up at Sojiro as she deftly texted. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no skin off my nose,” Sojiro said, smiling. “Hell, I haven’t seen you kids this happy in a long while. It’s good to see.”

“It feels good,” Makoto agreed softly as Haru tucked her phone away.

“Oh my God!” Futaba exclaimed from behind her laptop. She was sitting up on her feet, her eyes wide and bright as she stared at her screen. “I got her!”

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, blinking in confusion. Then Yusuke asked, “Who did you get?”

Futaba spun her laptop around, grinning like a madwoman. “I got a good shot of the lady’s face! The lady who accused Ren of assaulting Shido!”

“What?!” Makoto flew over to the computer, resting her hand on the table next to it as she stared at the still image on Futaba’s screen.

“Not just that,” Futaba said, looking at the others over Makoto’s shoulder. “The camera doesn’t have the best view of the confrontation, but it’s still there. We have the whole thing on tape, and it backs up Ren’s version of events perfectly.”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Ryuji breathed.

“Now what?” Ann asked, sitting up straight.

“Now,” Futaba said, stealing the computer back from Makoto, “I send this picture and video to Ohya. She’s gonna go to Inaba and track the lady down so we can go talk to her.”  
  
“That’s brilliant,” Makoto breathed, sinking into the booth and covering her face with both hands. “That’s…my God. That’s the key. That’s what we needed.” Someone sat in the booth next to her, and she peeked out in time to see Haru as the other third-year wrapped her arm around Makoto’s shoulders. “I…damn.” She inhaled raggedly, a million emotions hitting her at once. “We can do it.”

“We can,” Haru agreed softly. “We have what we need to get him out of there.”

“Huh,” Futaba murmured, drumming her fingernails on the table as she stared at her screen. “That’s…interesting.”

“What is?” Ann asked, coming over to peer over Futaba’s shoulder.

“Ohya just messaged me back. She said she’s sending one of her reporter colleagues to track the lady down, but she has something important to do here. She said it has something to do with Ren, but didn’t give any other details.”

“Does that truly matter?” Yusuke asked, frowning. “As long as a reporter from the city is looking for the answers, someone will likely point them in the right direction.”

“Except that Ohya was very gung-ho about making the trip. And she’s being really cagey about the reasons.” Futaba fell silent for a moment, typing rapidly.

“As long as someone finds this lady, I don’t much care who gets the credit,” Ryuji said with a broad shrug. “We just gotta get her to take back her testimony, and we’re in the home stretch!”

“It’ll be a bit more complicated than that,” Makoto said with a wry smile. “Getting the courts to reverse a decision takes time, even with all of the extenuating circumstances.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s down to the courts. We got them the evidence they need, and we have the direct line to the press. That counts for a lot!” Ryuji pointed out.

“Hmm,” Futaba murmured. “Okay. I’m going to read her answer to my question verbatim. I asked, ‘Oh, okay, that’s cool. What’s so important here in town?’ and she replied…” The hacker cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. “‘I got a hot tip about the kid. Can’t say more than that now, but I might have info for you tomorrow.’” She looked up. “That’s it.”

“Weird,” Ann murmured, frowning. “Like, really weird. She’s never been coy about her tips and stuff before now. _Trust_ me.” She rolled her eyes.

“I guess all we can do is wait,” Futaba said, closing her laptop. “She has the information she needs, and she promised to send someone to find the lady. So we’ve done all we can do.” She yawned widely, stretching.

“Oh, and the bedding is here!” Haru exclaimed as she glanced at her phone. She squeezed Makoto’s shoulders reassuringly before getting up and heading for the door.

“Come on, guys,” Makoto said, getting up as well. “That’s our bedding tonight, let’s go haul it in.”

Ryuji groaned loudly and dramatically, but fell in step behind her with a mischievous grin. “I _suppose_ that’s fair,” he agreed as everyone else piled out after them.

The driver had gotten a wide assortment of bedding and pillows, along with a few fold-up mats. It was more than enough to bed six teenagers down for the night, and it took a few trips for them to get everything upstairs.

“The girls should get the bed and sofa,” Ryuji said as he laid out the mats and began arranging blankets. “I mean, obvs Makoto gets the bed, that’s her spot.”

“Damn straight,” Makoto agreed with an easy little smile. “But it’s big enough for one other person, if someone wants to share it with me?”

“Futaba is the smallest,” Haru pointed out. “That might be best for you two? I’m quite happy with a mat, these are very comfortable mats.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Ann protested. “I’ll take a mat, I’ve used them before for camping and stuff. C’mon, Haru, you treated us and then you want to be on the _floor_?”

“Seriously,” Ryuji agreed. “Take the couch, Haru. Futaba, you good being on the bed with Makoto?”

“If Makoto is okay with it?” Futaba looked at the older girl expectantly.

“Of course,” Makoto smiled, wrapping an arm around Futaba’s shoulders and squeezing her gently.

“I suppose I can’t argue with everyone,” Haru said with a sigh and a smile. “All right. Thank you.”

With the sleeping arrangements decided on, the Thieves began building their beds on the respective pieces of furniture and the mats. Makoto grabbed an extra blanket and pillow, tossing them onto the bed before perching there and watching her friends playfully bicker over what blankets they wanted and how fluffy each pillow was.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Ren. They’d had a wonderful time that night, a much-needed escape from the harsh world, but they were back in the game now, and Ohya wasn’t usually cagey about her leads. What was going on with Ren that required her to be so tight-lipped? She didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine what would lead to that. And the not-knowing frightened her more than she wanted to admit.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Ren hung from his wrists, shivering helplessly as the heavy rain beat down on him. He’d never been so cold in all of his life, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive the length of time the warden wanted him out there.

All right, yes, he could admit it. He’d been foolish to challenge Nakamura, to stand his ground and hold the line against another wretched fucking adult when he didn’t have any of his usual resources. That said, he had a feeling Nakamura had planned something like this from the moment Ren left his cell for his weekly walk. The warden had ordered a search of his cell while he was in the yard, and they’d found pay dirt in the form of a page from the last letter he’d received from the Thieves. His defiance of the older man was just the cherry on top.

They’d left him in the cell overnight, presumably because punishment is so much worse when it’s anticipated, before coming for him early that morning.

Damn it. He’d been careless with the single sheet of paper that wasn’t recycled to write a new letter. He knew there would be consequences if he were caught, but had decided the lifeline to the outside world was worth it.

Was it, though? Despite all he’d been through at the hands of the cops, he had never expected something like this. Maybe he was just naive, maybe he still held a childish view of how justice should be maintained, he didn’t know. Either way, he hadn’t expected to be chained to an object that reminded him of the thing Ann had been chained to in Kamoshida’s Palace. That would have been bad enough on a normal winter day, when it was cold enough to see his breath. But it was raining, and he was in nothing but his underwear.

Nakamura was trying to kill him. The thought floated to the top of Ren’s mind and lingered there. It seemed logical. Even for someone believed to be a murderer, this was excessive. For a moment, he wished for the MetaNav again; he would give a lot to see if the warden had a Palace. What would it look like?

He floated with that thought for a while, his muscles cramping and shuddering as he shivered so hard he thought he would dislocate his joints.

He came back to himself violently as something thin and hard slapped across his chest, wrenching a pitiful little cry of surprised pain out of him. He blinked rapidly, trying to bring the two large figures in front of him into focus. Nakamura and Watanabe. Nakamura he had expected, but what the hell was Watanabe doing with him? Was he still “going along to get along”?

For his part, Kaito had no idea what was going on until about halfway through his shift. He’d noticed that Amamiya wasn’t in his cell, but assumed that he was in the infirmary or something, and the prison was in a state of barely controlled chaos with the sheer number of prisoners forced indoors by the days of rain. With the promise of yard time taken away (because no one wanted to be outside in the muck and rain), the prisoners were restless and upset.

Still, it took Kaito completely off guard when Nakamura grabbed his arm and hauled him toward the yard. “Sir?” Kaito asked, completely taken off guard. “I’m supposed to bring breakfast to the isolation…”

“Someone else will handle that today,” Nakamura returned, tossing a heavy oilcloth coat at Kaito. “We have a job to do outside.”

“In the rain?” Kaito grumbled, putting the coat on and pulling the hood over his head.

“You’ll see,” Nakamura said with a grin.

That grin was the first indication Kaito had that something was wrong, actually properly wrong. Frowning to himself, Kaito trudged out into the yard with Nakamura. Then all of the blood drained out of his face as he realized the punishment tree was up, and someone was on it. He couldn’t make out detail at that distance with the pouring rain, but God, anyone out here in this weather?

Two facts occurred to him at the same time: he remembered the clash of wills between Amamiya and Nakamura, and he realized that he hadn’t seen Amamiya in his cell. _Fuck_!

Nakamura pulled out a riding crop as he approached the hanging teenager, and Kaito watched in helpless horror as he slashed the thin leather across Amamiya’s chest. He flinched as Amamiya cried out, turning away slightly.

“Oh, no no no, Watanabe,” Nakamura scolded, turning on Kaito with all of the speed of a striking snake. “Don’t think you get to run away. See, he’s in trouble for communicating with the outside world, and I’m pretty sure that’s not something he could do alone.” He grinned wolfishly as Kaito’s heart sank into his stomach. “I notice you’ve taken a particular interest in this one. Stepping up when no one else wants to handle him. Got a little crush, Watanabe?”

That was so far from the truth as to almost be laughable, but the situation was too grim for laughter. “No, sir,” he said, trying to catch Amamiya’s gaze. The kid’s head lolled from side to side, making him look drunk, or drugged. God, his skin was so pale it looked almost blue. “But we should get him inside to the infirmary. He’ll catch his death out here, and then the protesters…”

“Then they’ll find out he went insane in his little box, and hanged himself,” Nakamura interrupted coldly. “He knows what he has to do to go back inside.” He checked his watch. “Four of your eight hours down, Amamiya. You’re more stubborn than I thought.”

Eight hours in this freezing, piercing rain? Kaito stared at his boss, utterly convinced the man had gone insane. “What…what does he have to do?”

“He’s out here for eight hours, or until he properly begs to come back inside. Whichever comes first.”

Son of a bitch, the stubborn, proud little…! Kaito turned on Amamiya, ready to unload on him, but the words died in his throat. Because Amamiya’s chin was tipped up now, and his eyes glowed yellow through his hair.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_‘I am thou. Thou art I.’_

Ren lost track of the wardens very shortly after their arrival. The sharp pain of the riding crop across his chest, coupled with the sense of abandonment and terror, drove him deep into his head.

_‘I swore I would be with you, always. Didst thou think I would break my word so easily?’_

He knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it as long as he’d heard Arsene’s, but he knew it down to the core of his inner being. “Satanael,” he whispered, the word lost in the pounding rain.

_‘Thou who hast faced and overcome the powers of control, who hast stood against all in your path, wilt thou so easily break before this coward?’_

He’d been so alone for the last weeks. Trapped and scared and barely able to cope with the meager lifeline of the smuggled letters. But with Satanael’s voice ringing in his ears, he remembered. He was the Trickster, the embodiment of The World arcana. Though he no longer had access to the Metaverse, he had the strength of will to control over a hundred Personas. And while he didn’t get to see them, his friends were working their hearts out to see him freed. Their letters promised a solution.

 _“I will not die in this place.”_ The words settled into his core, and he felt Satanael’s power bloom through his body as he raised his head.

Personas couldn’t work their power in the real world. That was rule number one when dealing with the Metaverse. But Ren had abilities that translated into the real world, including the Third Eye. As desperation and rage coupled together to fill him with the energy he’d used in the Metaverse, he felt Satanael’s power flow through him as he became a temporary conduit.

Kaito gaped at Amamiya and fell back a step, suddenly afraid of the slender young man with the demonic smile. And that smile wasn’t even directed at him!

Nakamura stood frozen, held in place like a rat hypnotized by a snake. His riding crop fell into the mud, unheeded, and he stared at Amamiya with wide, terrified eyes. “The hell?” he managed to whisper.

“You are a pitiful little man with a weak heart.” Amamiya’s voice was weirdly deeper than it had ever been; Kaito thought for a moment that he could hear echoes of something older and darker and far more frightening than the young man in front of them. “Your power is nothing but the exploitation of those who are forced to obey you.” He grinned, and Kaito realized uncomfortably that the grin was intensely shark-like. “You shall not stand. I will steal everything that you hold dear!”

Nakamura’s eyes were huge and terrified, and he snarled something completely unintelligible. He rocked forward a step, hand raised to slap Amamiya across the face. But he froze as light burst across Amamiya’s face, blue flames shimmering down his body and settling for a moment into the shape of a mask and a flowing coat. Then the flames winked out, and Amamiya settled back against the punishment tree, breathing as hard as if he’d just run a marathon. He did look a little less pale, though.

“You fucking _brat_!” Nakamura finished the motion, smashing his fist across Amamiya’s face. The kid rocked sideways, his head smacking into his arm.

Insanely, Amamiya started laughing. He spat out a mouthful of blood before looking up at Nakamura through his hair. “You ape,” he mocked. “Is that all you know how to do? You’re so damn powerful, aren’t you? Hitting teenagers who are chained to a _cross_.”

Nakamura went the approximate color of a tomato before hitting Amamiya again on the other side of the face. “It’s enough to deal with little fucking punks like you,” he growled before punching Amamiya in the stomach as hard as he could.

The teenager doubled over as far as he physically could, vomiting everything he had in his stomach as his whole body convulsed in agonizing pain.

“Jesus Christ, Nakamura, sir,” Kaito stammered, grabbing his supervisor’s arm. “We can’t kill him, stop, that’s enough.”

Nakamura whirled on Kaito, his eyes filled with an inhuman rage. “You want it next?” he growled, shaking out his hand before clenching it into a fist again. His fist was roughly the size of a honey ham, and it freaked Kaito out. He could feel blood draining from his face, and he almost backed down. But he glanced sideways at the kid, who was hanging from his wrists, half conscious. His shoulders looked wrong, somehow. Had they been dislocated? As he looked at Amamiya, though, the kid lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of vomit and blood. He was clearly dazed and in a significant amount of pain. But the fire of defiance still burned in his eyes.

That kid was fucking insane. But Kaito respected the hell out of him for his defiance. Setting his mouth in a hard line, Kaito turned back to Nakamura. “If necessary,” he said.

“What?!” Nakamura demanded, clearly taken aback by Kaito’s defiance.

Kaito shifted to stand between Nakamura and Amamiya. “He’s been punished more than enough,” he said coolly. “This is excessive, and it’s wrong.”

Nakamura looked like he was about to have an aneurysm as he came nose-to-nose with Kaito. “Get. The HELL. Out of the way,” he growled.

“No, sir,” Kaito replied. He was shaking, and he was sure his voice was a bit squeaky, but he didn’t move.

Nakamura grabbed him by the front of his uniform and flung him sideways, throwing Kaito into the mud of the exercise yard. “You’re next,” he promised his subordinate before turning back to Amamiya.

Kaito shook his head, gathering himself to get up and spring at Nakamura. Probably suicidal, since the guy outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds of pure muscle, but he couldn’t back down now.

As he scrambled to get his feet under him, though, a flash of movement from the roof caught his attention. He looked up just as the cat with the yellow collar launched itself off the closest ridge, landing squarely on Nakamura’s head.

Nakamura’s howls of pain echoed off every wall, drawing attention from everyone inside the buildings. People started shouting from all directions, demanding to know what was going on as Nakamura tried to shake the cat off his head. That cat was insanely smart, though. It clung to the man’s collar with its front paws as it rabbit-kicked the shit out of his face, then whirled around and latched all claws into Nakamura’s scalp.

Kaito scrambled to his feet as people started running out into the yard. The cat let out one last snarl of rage and triumph before using Nakamura as a springboard, vaulting back up the wall to disappear into a shadow. As Kaito watched it go, he realized someone else was up there too. It was hard to make out gender from that distance, but the person had a watchful air.

The chief warden came running out into the yard, his oilcloth coat flapping behind him like a cape. “Watanabe, Nakamura, at attention!” he barked as a couple people tried to tend to Nakamura’s wounds. “What in the name of hell is going on here?! Why is the boy out here? He’s supposed to be in his cell!”

“Letters,” Nakamura snarled, grabbing a cloth from one of the people who’d come out and pressing it to his wounds. “Amamiya was sending letters out to someone, and Watanabe was helping smuggle them out!”

The chief warden turned to Kaito, scowling. “That so?”

“Of course not,” Kaito scoffed. “How the hell would I send any letters out? I don’t know anyone the kid’s connected to.” Which was true; he actually had no idea who the letters were coming from, or where they were going when he handed them to the cat. He straightened his muddy uniform. “And even if that _was_ true, how the hell does that justify leaving the kid out here, in the rain and freezing cold, for _four hours_ and beating the shit out of him?”

“It’s Nakamura’s responsibility to keep order in his unit,” the chief warden sniffed, but Kaito caught a hint of fear in his eyes. “Let’s just get everyone taken care of, and say no more.”

“You wish it were that easy!”

That was a new voice, a woman’s voice. Everyone whirled around to look at the person on the roof, who was standing up now. Amamiya lifted his head a little, letting out a coughing, painful laugh. “Ohya,” he mumbled.

“What?” The chief warden was clearly completely out of his depth. “Who the hell are you?!” he demanded of the woman on the roof. “Get your ass down here!”

“Like hell!” the woman taunted. “I’m Ichiko Ohya, and I’m a reporter!” She held up a camera carefully wrapped in a plastic bag and aimed it at the tableau in the exercise yard. “Say cheese!” A flash punctuated her last word, and then she turned and scrambled down the other side of the roof, disappearing before anyone had a chance to do anything.

Ren couldn’t stop laughing, even though it hurt like hell. He hadn’t expected Ohya to be there, but it fit her personality. She wasn’t strong enough to take anyone on directly, but the pen was mightier than the sword, especially when the camera backed it up. “Those pictures,” he coughed. “They’re going to be…in every major newspaper by morning.” He knew Ohya’s web of connections, and he knew how skilled she was at crafting a headline. “You’ll be under siege by the weekend.”

Everyone in the yard stared at him, and he watched as horrified realization dawned across their faces. The people generally turned a blind eye to the cops because of the power differential. But there were a lot more people than there were cops, and seeing a teenager put in harm’s way, even a teenager who was a notorious criminal…well, riots were a real possibility.

“Do you know how to contact her?” Ren didn’t know the man who had commanded both Watanabe and Nakamura to attention, but his uniform and bearing indicated a fairly high rank. Maybe the highest in the prison.

Flicking his soaking hair back, Ren grimaced in pain. “Maybe,” he said. “Depends on what I get out of having that information.”

“You’re trying to _bargain_? _Now_?” The new warden looked absolutely flabbergasted at the very concept.

“If you would prefer to be left hung out to dry,” Ren returned dryly, drawing deeply on Satanael’s strength to keep his voice level, “I can accommodate. Remember that video that went out before Shido went down? Our hacker made sure that went viral; I’m pretty sure our hacker will be more than happy to make sure those pictures are plastered on every mobile device in the city.” It was a gamble, a threat made without consulting Futaba, but he was pretty sure she could do what he was describing, and would do so without his prompting.

How had Ohya known to be there? He’d have to think about that later, when he wasn’t in so much pain that focusing at all was a chore. He inhaled slowly, feeling Satanael’s power holding him upright. He’d pay for this later, but he considered the price worth paying.

“Take Amamiya to the infirmary,” the new warden instructed Watanabe. “I’ll come talk to him there.” He tried to meet Ren’s eyes, but flinched away after a second. Were his eyes yellow again? He couldn’t tell, but it made sense, since he was drawing on his fragile connection to the Metaverse for strength. The man in charge turned on his heel and stalked away, followed closely by Nakamura. Before Nakamura entered the building, he shot Ren a truly evil glare over his shoulder. Feeling a little cockier than he probably should have, Ren waggled his fingers in a mocking little wave. The pain was enormous, but it was worth it to see Nakamura go nearly purple with rage before he disappeared into the building.

Ren sagged against the restraints, sapped of what little strength he’d managed to glean from Satanael and the rage he felt whenever Nakamura was anywhere near him.

Kaito saw the sudden drop and took command quickly. “Get a stretcher from the infirmary,” he told two of the guards, nudging them back toward the door. “I’m going to need some help getting him into the infirmary.” Going to Amamiya, he wrapped an arm around the kid’s waist and held him still as he pulled the pins holding the cuffs closed. Amamiya didn’t make a sound, but his face locked in a rictus of pain as his arms dropped helplessly, and Kaito could feel him shaking like a leaf.

The other guards arrived moments later with the stretcher, and Kaito gently transferred Amamiya onto it, walking alongside as they started hustling him to the infirmary. Poor fucking kid. He was insane, for sure, but he was also a teenager in a tremendous amount of pain.

An idea occurred to him, and he vowed to follow through on it when he had Amamiya settled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ren drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. His shoulders had indeed been dislocated, and resetting those involved some truly amazing painkillers. He wasn’t aware of the time, but it had to be a few hours after he’d been put back together that he woke to find the commanding warden standing by his bedside with an unreadable expression.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said when Ren slowly blinked his eyes open. “Are you cognizant?”

“More or less,” Ren murmured. His mouth hurt; he’d bitten the hell out of his cheeks and lips to keep from screaming in agony when he was taken off the cross-thing and brought to the infirmary. “Never caught your name.”

“Never gave it,” the commanding warden agreed. “I’m Reo Takahashi. And you’re Ren Amamiya, the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

“Former leader,” Ren corrected. “Correct otherwise.”

“Former, then.” Takahashi tapped a pen on his leg thoughtfully before sitting next to Ren’s bed. “Who was the woman up on the wall?”

“She told you exactly who she was,” Ren murmured, his words slurring a little. “And I’m sure you looked her up online.”

Takahashi smiled a tight little smile. “You’re as clever as they say. So. You say you know how to contact her.”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Ren said, consciously forcing himself not to shrug. He didn’t know what that would do to his shoulders, and he didn’t want to find out. “I have her number memorized. Email address, too.”

“Is there some way we can convince you to give us that information? Perhaps even get you to talk to her yourself?”

One of Ren’s eyebrows went straight up. “What, you’ll let me talk to her?” he asked, mildly bemused by the whole thing.

Takahashi let out a quiet little sigh. “While you are a teenager, I suspect you to be more of a man of the world than most teenagers, so I will be blunt with you. You were correct in your assessment in the yard: whatever pictures she took will almost certainly destroy us. We have a lot of dangerous people in this prison; we cannot afford to have the place shut down. So I am willing to bargain with you, Amamiya of the yellow eyes. Though I see your eyes have gone back to normal.”

So his eyes had been yellow. Ren tucked that little tidbit of information away for later consideration. “I want Nakamura out,” he said bluntly. “I understand it takes a certain hardness to handle criminals day in and day out, but he is a sadist, and that isn’t right for someone serving as a servant of the state.”

Takahashi let out a slow breath. “I thought you might say something like that,” he admitted. “He is a valued member of our team.”

“Who attempted to kill a prisoner through either pneumonia or beating, because of an accusation of passing letters,” Ren said, his expression hard. “He doesn’t belong in power. Here are my terms: I will talk to Ohya myself and ask her to delete those pictures, if Nakamura is first removed from his job with a letter in his permanent file.”

“And if I refuse?”

Ren smiled, closing his eyes.

“Amamiya! Dammit, you can’t play with people’s lives and livelihoods like this!”

“Why not?” Ren asked, opening his eyes again and staring up at the other man. “Most adults I’ve met pull that game with my life and livelihood.”

Takahashi sputtered a couple times before sighing in defeat and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number rapidly before holding the phone to his ear. “It’s Takahashi. Yes. Correct. That’s what he said.” He glanced down at Ren, who was straining his ears to try and catch part of the other side of the conversation. “We don’t have much of a choice. Yes, fire Nakamura, effective immediately.” He listened a moment longer before hanging up. “All right, it’s done.”

“I’ve learned a few things from our hacker,” Ren said evenly. “I’ll need to see proof before I talk to Ohya.”

“So distrustful,” Takahashi sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m a Phantom Thief,” Ren said, a bit of an edge entering his voice. “We don’t have a whole lot of faith in people in authority.”

Takahashi looked at Ren for a long moment, really evaluating the young man. Ren looked right back, not about to be intimidated by this man in a uniform. He was too tired to give a shit anymore, and if he had to be here the rest of his life anyway, he wasn’t going to take their ration of stupid.

“Fine,” Takahashi said, pulling his phone out again. He sent a few text messages, then held up the phone so Ren could see the screen. It was a live stream from a room that looked like a locker room. Inside, Nakamura was swearing up a storm as he pulled everything out of a locker and stuffed it into a duffle bag.

Ren watched, his expression unreadable as he listened to Nakamura call him all sorts of names, sprinkled with the occasional colorful threat involving body positions that were improbable at best. He wondered who was suicidal enough to stand in there with a phone live streaming while Nakamura was acting like a caged bear.

It didn’t matter. Five minutes later, Nakamura walked out of the building, followed by the mysterious cameraman. Once he was out on the steps, a man in a suit approached him and handed him a file. “Stay away from correctional jobs,” he said. “Good luck.”

Nakamura answered that with a string of swear words that got more and more incomprehensible by the moment. But he snatched the file and stormed away, disappearing into the crowd.

“You’ve made an enemy,” Takahashi remarked as he turned the phone off and tucked it in his pocket.

Ren shrugged. That was nothing new; he had plenty of enemies in his world. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to gather his strength. Then he said, “All right, I’m convinced. Let me use a landline.”

“My mobile is right here,” Takahashi said testily. “Wouldn’t that be more convenient?”

“Sure. And then you’d have her number saved.” Ren opened one eye and gave Takahashi a Look.

Takahashi grimaced, but got up and stepped out of the room. Now that he was a little more awake and alert, Ren realized two things at the same time. First, both wrists were handcuffed to the bedrails, and when he moved his feet, he felt the weight of manacles there, too. Second, he was in a little, private room, with no doorknob on the inside. He sighed quietly, closing his eyes and focusing away from the tiny prison where he was meant to recover.

He dozed until Takahashi came back, carrying a handheld phone receiver. The warden dropped the receiver on Ren’s chest and unlocked one of his wrists, sitting next to the bed again and crossing his arms expectantly.

Ren grimaced as he rubbed his chest with his newly freed hand before scooping up the phone. He’d made a point of memorizing everyone’s phone numbers at the beginning of this little escapade, and he’d called Ohya often enough that it was easy to recall, even in his muddled state. He typed it in and held the phone to his ear, settling back into the pillows.

She picked up on the second ring, “Ohya speaking.” She sounded rushed and thrilled, the reporter hound on the scent.

“Hey, it’s Amamiya,” Ren said, closing his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much hearing a familiar voice, even over the phone, would affect him. Must still be drugged up to the eyeballs to almost be in tears over hearing Ohya’s abrasive voice.

“REN!” He got the phone away from his ear just in time to avoid deafness at her enthusiastic greeting. “Good to hear your voice properly talking, and not that weird echoing thing you had going on. What’s up, kiddo?”

“The wardens want me to tell you to delete the photos you took,” Ren said, blinking firmly to keep himself under control.

“Oh yeah?” He heard the phone shift as she started typing. “They threatening you?”

Ren snorted. “Because they could threaten me with a whole lot more than what they’ve already done to me. No, we’re trading favors. The warden who was pulling all of that stuff has been fired.”

“Hell of a favor, good job,” Ohya said with a grin. “I’ve already forwarded the photos to Kayo and Futaba for safety. Should I have them delete them, too?”

Hmm, that was a good question. “No, I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

“Having insurance never hurts.”

“Yes, you’re right. Delete your files, and don’t publish anything,” Ren added sternly. “That’s the deal. Nakamura stays gone, and the prison doesn’t get bad press.”

Ohya sighed dramatically. “ _Fine_. But you owe me a good story later when the Thieves get you out of there.”

“How’s that going?” Takahashi was starting to look a bit like a tomato, so he probably couldn’t stay on the line much longer.

“Really, really well. They’re tracking down leads, with my expert help, of course."

“Of course,” Ren agreed with a smile. “I have to go. Tell the others I say hi?”

“Sure thing! Good luck in there!” And with that, Ohya hung up.

Ren fumbled at the power button before handing the phone back to Takahashi. He held still as the man cuffed him back to the bed, sinking into the blankets and pillows as he closed his eyes.

“So she knows not to publish anything?” Takahashi asked, hovering around the bed.

“Hmm?” Ren blinked his eyes open with a little frown of concentration. “Oh, yeah. She’s deleting the photos, and canceling the article. She’s a news hound, bit difficult to make it go away, but she agreed.”

Takahashi let out a soft sigh that was just this side of relieved. “All right. Good.” He got up, brushing his uniform off. “Get some rest. You’ll be back in your normal cell in a couple days.”

“Sure,” Ren murmured, closing his eyes and exhaling. Even the controlled breathing prompted a coughing fit, and he grimaced as he listened as the warden left the room and the heavy bolt slid into place. When he was sure he was alone, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had an IV in his left arm, but it looked like a simple pain medication and fluid drip. That meant he hadn’t caught pneumonia or anything similar, which was astonishing after all of those hours outside in the driving rain. He did have piles of blankets and an electric blanket, so he was almost a little too warm.

There were cameras in two corners, covering him from every angle. Between those and the handcuffs, he was feeling more than a little smothered. He tugged experimentally on the cuffs, figuring out his range of motion. The cuff attached to the bed rail slid up and down, so at least he could touch his face. He rubbed his nose vigorously before settling back into the pillows.

He was so tired. But he had a lot to think about. Something had attacked Nakamura. Something with claws. And Ohya had somehow known to be at the prison to catch the photos. Photos, plural, which meant she probably had several hundred, depending on how itchy her trigger finger was.

None of this made any sense. If Morgana were still around (and he had to blink tears away as he remembered that his friend and roommate was really, truly gone), he’d assume it was Morgana making things happen behind the scenes. But he wasn’t around. So who, or what, was leaving claw marks on an abusive warden and leading intrepid reporters to the scene of the crime?

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, it doesn’t make sense.” Shifting, he kicked a foot out from under the covers so he could cool off a little. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on around him, and he really didn’t like unsolved mysteries.

 _‘One thing Akechi and I had in common, I guess,’_ he thought. That sent him into sleep with a wry smile on his face.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Oh, this is _perfect_!”

Makoto startled awake, blinking rapidly and rubbing her face as she tried to figure out where she was and what was going on. Okay, yeah, that was Futaba squealing in joy.

“Ow,” she mumbled as her sore muscles protested the sudden movement. Sitting up slowly, she looked around the loft bedroom. Everyone else was still asleep, clearly worn out from their activities the day before. God, it was late, wasn’t it? Makoto checked her watch and winced; they’d managed to sleep in until noon. Futaba was perched in Ren’s desk chair, hunched over her computer as she giggled to herself.

Sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, Makoto rested her elbows on her knees, letting her head droop as she exhaled. “Okay, I’m awake,” she yawned. “Walk me through what’s so perfect?”

“I keep forgetting you normal people sleep so much,” Futaba said, shooting a grin at Makoto. “Ohya sent me a bunch of photos we can use as leverage on the prison system.”

“What sort of photos?” Makoto asked, her stomach turning a bit. ‘Leverage’ was almost never good for the people involved in the photos, and the prison system had her boyfriend.

Futaba hesitated, squinting at the screen over her glasses. Now that she’d come down from the thrill of having leverage, she seemed to actually see what was on the screen. “You…might not want to see, actually.”

Well, that didn’t reassure her at all. Makoto stood up slowly, rubbing her palms dry on her pajama pants. “I might not want to. But I think I need to.”

“If you’re sure?” Futaba half-closed her laptop, hiding her screen from easy view. “Really, now that I’ve really looked at them, they’re…not good."

“Futaba,” Makoto said firmly.

Futaba winced. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, opening her screen as Makoto moved to stand behind her.

Well. She _had_ warned Makoto.

Makoto felt all of the blood drain from her face as she stared at the series of pictures. Futaba had one open, with a bunch of others lined up like a filmstrip underneath. “Is that…?”

“Ren,” Futaba agreed quietly. “Yeah.”

She recognized the device he was strapped to from her history classes. Officially, the prisons didn’t use those anymore. Unofficially…well, she could see the evidence for herself. “When were these taken?”

“This morning. Around seven or so. Ohya sent them to me and someone else for safety. I woke up about a half hour ago and saw them when I was going through my stuff.” Futaba fiddled anxiously with the ends of her hair. “She said he’s okay now, if that helps?”

It didn’t. Seeing her boyfriend strapped to something that was far too close to being a cross, his skin pale in the rain with the mud clinging to his ankles… Covering her face with both hands, Makoto hurried downstairs into the main café, trying to get away from the others before she burst out crying. She was only partially successful.

Futaba followed her downstairs, wrapping her arms around Makoto and hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have looked first, I’m really sorry.”

Closing her eyes, Makoto hugged Futaba back, resting her cheek on the younger girl’s hair. “Not your fault,” she murmured, tears escaping into Futaba’s hair. “I…God, I’m just so tired of this. Of adults pulling this sort of thing on us, on _him_ , because we dare to stand up.”

Futaba nodded, her cheek rubbing against Makoto’s shoulder. “It sucks.” She pulled away, wiping her face with both hands. “But, um. I did mean it. Ohya said the warden who did this stuff got fired, which is great, but it might be worth it to get him out of commission entirely. He’s a big dude, and he has reason to hate Ren.”

“What are you thinking?” Makoto asked, wiping her face with the back of a hand.

“Sae _did_ offer to help,” Futaba said, scuffing one bare foot against the ground.

Makoto leaned against a divider between seats and crossed her arms, thinking about that. “She did,” she agreed slowly. “And she does still have a lot of pull.” Logically, it made perfect sense to call on Sae. So why was she hesitating?

“Is it because you’re still mad at her?” Futaba asked.

“Maybe.” Makoto made a face. “Though that’s a decidedly childish reason to not ask for help.”

“Being a third year senpai doesn’t keep you from being childish sometimes,” Futaba pointed out cheekily.

“Brat,” Makoto said, swatting at the younger girl as Futaba scampered out of the way. But the comment had gotten her to laugh a little, breaking some of the tension. “All right, forward me the folder of photos, and I’ll send them to Sis. I don’t suppose you got the warden’s name?”

“Do I look like a noob?” Futaba demanded. She dashed back up the stairs and got her laptop, settling into a booth and sending the files over.

Makoto determinedly didn’t look at any of the pictures as she sent the file and the warden’s name to Sae with a message that simply read, “He’s been fired. See if you can get him arrested?”

“What about the other guy who’s with Nakamura?” Makoto asked. The images were pretty well burned into her head, and she remembered there being two men down there with Ren.

“Ohya says he’s okay,” Futaba said with a shrug. “I trust her reporter instincts.”

“As long as she hasn’t been drinking,” Makoto muttered rebelliously, but based on the angle the photos had been taken, it was very unlikely that Ohya had been drinking before climbing up there. “How did she know to be there?”

“I asked her the same thing. All she’d say is that she was ‘led’ there.”

“Led?” Makoto echoed.

“Yup. And wouldn’t say who or what led her there.” Futaba pushed her glasses up her nose. “She got awfully shy on the subject, actually. That might be what she was talking about yesterday?”

“There’s been an awful lot of that sort of thing around stuff to do with Ren lately,” Makoto said thoughtfully. She wanted to pursue that thought, but just then, someone knocked on the locked door.

“Sojiro doesn’t knock,” Futaba said, leaning up to look through the window. Then she gasped and ducked under the table. “It’s the other guy who was with Nakamura,” she stage-whispered at Makoto.

“What?” Makoto turned to look instinctively, something she immediately kicked herself for as she locked eyes with the man on the other side of the door. No chance she could pretend to not be there now, dammit. Clearing her throat, she grabbed an apron and tossed it over her shoulder as she went to the door.

“What are you doing?!” Futaba whispered.

“Getting rid of him,” Makoto hissed back. “Stay hidden, okay?”

Futaba didn’t answer, which she took as an answer on its own. Unlocking the bolt from the inside, she cracked the door open a little. “Hi, hello,” she chirped, in full customer service mode. “We’re not opening today, I’m so sorry.”

The man checked his phone, and for a moment, she thought that had worked. And then he asked, “Are you Makoto Niijima?”

Her heart stopped in her chest, and she forced herself to look normal. “That’s awfully personal,” she said with a girlish giggle.

“Ah, my apologies.” He was in casual clothes, very different from the uniform she’d seen in the pictures. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m Kaito Watanabe, and I’m looking for you, if you’re Makoto Niijima, to pass along a message.”

It was just too coincidental. He couldn’t be here on any business other than Ren, could he? Especially after those damning pictures got into the Phantom Thieves’ hands? She dropped the customer service act and opened the door a little more. “Is this about Ren?” she asked, feeling her Queen persona settle around her shoulders.

He startled a little, though whether that was because of her change of tone or because she’d guessed so accurately, she couldn’t tell. “Yes, it’s about Amamiya,” he agreed. He blew out a breath. “I guess you heard about what happened this morning, then?”

“Heard, and saw the pictures,” Makoto replied, her voice cold.

“Ah.” To her surprise, Watanabe chuckled softly. “Smart of her, getting them into other hands. And the agreement was only that _Ohya_ delete her pictures.” He shook his head with an expression that looked a lot like admiration. “That kid thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”

“You said you have a message?” Makoto asked, thawing a little. He couldn’t be too bad if he wasn’t afraid of what the pictures showed.

“Oh, yes.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a triangle of folded up paper. “I assume you’re Mako?” he asked quietly as he passed it over. “I’ve been the one getting the letters in and out of his cell.”

Makoto stared at the triangle of paper, her eyes wide as she cupped it in her palms. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. Do you…do you want to come in? Have some coffee?”

“That would be lovely,” Watanabe agreed, following her inside. He sat gingerly in the booth closest to the door, his hands clasped together on the table.

Futaba surfaced from under her table, glaring suspiciously at the man from behind her laptop. “You’re a warden in Ren’s prison,” she said.

“Arguably, Amamiya is a prisoner in my prison,” Watanabe said mildly. “And you are?”

“None of your business.” Futaba sank into her laptop, typing almost viciously. She glanced up now and again, making it clear she was watching Watanabe.

Sojiro came in then, looking between the two teenagers and the adult man. “I missed something,” he remarked. “Coffee?”

“Oh good, you can make the coffee,” Makoto said with a relieved sigh. “I’m not good at it.”

“We’re still working on that,” Sojiro said with an affectionate smile as he made his way behind the counter. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Watanabe glanced at Makoto, deferring to her. “It’s okay,” she said, sinking into a back corner of the café. “He’s close to Ren, Ren would want him to know.”

Thus reassured, Watanabe filled Sojiro in as Boss made coffee. Slouching down in her corner, Makoto opened the folded paper. It wasn’t folded as tightly as usual, and the folds were sloppy. That was worrying enough, and the state of Ren’s handwriting didn’t make her feel any better. It was legible, and that was about all she could say about it.

_Mako, my love,_

_I’m going to get the bad news out of the way first, then talk about the good things. Forgive me if I’m a little scrambled; it’s been a strange day and a half or so._

_Ohya said she was sending the photos of everything that happened to Futaba. If it’s not too late already, I’d suggest you not look. I don’t know exactly what they look like, because I wasn’t entirely coherent for some of it, but I know they won’t be good and you won’t like what you see._

_If it’s too late…I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly mean to end up in this position._

_Right now, I’m writing to you from the infirmary. I’m on very good pain medications (which is why I feel a bit loopy), and I’m pretty comfortable. ~~If we don’t count the restraints keeping me in the bed.~~_

She had to squint a bit to read the last sentence, but it was still pretty legible, even with a wobbly line drawn through it. Makoto shook her head slightly, her breath catching on something like a sob. “He’s a _teenager_ , for God’s sake,” she whispered, her eyes hot as she looked up at Watanabe.

The warden went very still under her stare, regarding her the same way he would regard a dangerous predator in the wild. Boss came over to her, putting the mug of coffee next to her and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Makoto,” he murmured. “Whatever happened, whatever is in that letter, chances are good he wouldn’t come and face you if he was responsible.”

That was true, and Makoto hated how true it was. She’d give a lot at that moment for the ability to use the MetaNav again: she’d wreck havoc in Nakamura’s Palace. With a crowbar. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Boss nodded, squeezing her shoulder before going back to the counter. She gave Watanabe another appraising look before going back to the letter.

_Sorry, I don’t seem to have much in the way of filters at the moment. But I am comfortable, and I am safe._

_I talked to the doctor when she came through. Apparently, both shoulders were dislocated, and I very nearly caught pneumonia. I have a cough I can’t seem to quite shake, and a couple broken ribs. I imagine that’ll hurt when the pain meds wear off. Especially with the coughing._

_I got careless. The last letter I got from you had two sheets of blank-backed paper; I only used one to write my return letter and didn’t flush the second one down the toilet. So they found it when I was out on my weekly walk and they searched my cell. I knew there might be consequences if they ever found out, but._

_I’m warm now. Tucked up under a million blankets, including an electric blanket. But before, when I was out in the yard and couldn’t get out, I’ve never been that cold. And wet. You know me, I’m like a cat. I hate being wet._

_Anyway. It was bad, and I don’t want to revisit it at the moment. I already have bad dreams._

Makoto put the letter down and covered her face with both hands. She could almost hear Ren narrating his letter, and he sounded _awful_. His writing patterns felt drunk and slurred, as if he was trying to focus through a massive mental fog. She hated that, hated that he was hurt badly enough to need medication that powerful. “Damn it,” she whispered, wiping tears away. Just as well she wasn’t wearing makeup; she would have cried it all off at this point.

Okay. She could do this. He’d managed to write the letter after having both shoulders _dislocated_ , she could make herself read what he’d worked so hard to write.

_There was good stuff, though! I haven’t been able to access anything in the Metaverse since Christmas Eve, since everything got shut down. But I still have the Third Eye ability, which was a strange thing to discover when I turned it on by accident. Or instinct. I don’t remember which it was, just that it startled the heck out of me when I turned it on._

_In the middle of everything that happened yesterday, when I was cold and soaking wet and hurt and angry, Satanael came back. Ask Watanabe, if he stuck around after delivering this, he said he saw something happen that he didn’t understand. It’s a very tenuous connection, nothing like how it used to be. And Satanael can’t affect things in real life, except giving me a boost of strength when I’m able to access him fully, but he’s there. I can’t say how much that means to me, when I’ve been so alone aside from the lifeline of your letters._

_Also, I officially have permission to send and receive letters as often as I like. I think they’re a bit scared of me now._

_Good._

Makoto smiled, feeling her Queen personality settling into that smile. Yes, good. They damn well should be afraid of him, and of her, if she got her hands on any of them.

_I keep having weird dreams, every time I fall asleep. I keep thinking I’m back in the Velvet Room, about to launch into another mission. Or I’m back in the interrogation room, helpless and scared and alone and unable to focus past the fog. Kinda like how I feel now, actually. Or I’m freezing out in the yard. Very rarely, I dream of being home and safe, with you. And those are the best dreams, but I wake up crying._

_Damn. I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to spill all of that out. A lot going on in my head right now._

_I miss you. So much. Write back when you can?_

_I think I’m going back to sleep now. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll talk to you soon._

_All of my love,_

_Ren_

She could barely read the last couple of lines. He was probably falling asleep as he wrote them, poor love. She folded the paper up carefully and slipped it into her vest to rest over her heart. Then she picked up her mug of coffee and walked over to Watanabe. He watched her warily, but didn’t flinch when she sat across from him.

“You saw him,” she said. “When?”

“About an hour ago,” the warden replied. “He managed to get the letter folded up and handed to me before he fell asleep.” A shadow of an affectionate smile touched the corners of his mouth. “He fell asleep in the middle of saying something, actually.”

God, the mental image was too adorable for words. “How does…mmm.” She rubbed her chin. “I guess he wouldn’t look at his best, after everything. But how did he look?”

“Worlds better than he did before,” Watanabe said gently. “He’s still pale, and he needs a lot of sleep to recover, but he’s on track to recover fully.”

“Good, that’s…” Makoto cleared her throat. “That’s good.”

Watanabe waited a moment before asking, “Do you want me to take him a return letter?”

“What? Oh, would you be willing to?” Makoto sat up straight, already ready to dash up to Ren’s room and write a message.

“I’ve been passing notes like a teenager for over a month now, I might as well keep up the trend.” He looked different when he smiled. Warmer, and more approachable. If the circumstances had been different, perhaps he could have been one of the adults the Thieves called on to assist them. But the Thieves were focused on a single mission, and he was already helping on that one as much as he could.

“I’ll be right back,” Makoto promised, sliding out of the booth and running up the stairs. She didn’t want to take too much more of his time, so she dashed out a quick letter.

_My darling Ren,_

_I saw the pictures. They were horrifying, but I hear you are recovering properly. We’re very close to finding our solutions; stay strong a little longer. And maybe try to keep your head down as much as possible?_

_I’m jealous Satanael came back to you. I’ll have to see if I can find Anat again. I certainly miss her voice in my ear._

_I’ll write a longer letter later; Watanabe is waiting for this so he can deliver it to you. I’m always astonished by your ability to build connections and find allies, even in the strangest places._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_Take care of yourself. I hope to see you again, very soon._

_With all of my love,_

_Mako_

She folded it up, wrote Ren’s name on the outside, and ran back down the stairs. Futaba was still glowering at Watanabe, but her glare had less strength behind it. The warden perked up a little and finished his mug of coffee as Makoto approached him. “That is excellent coffee, Sojiro. I will certainly be back.”

“You’re always welcome,” Sojiro said with a nod and a smile. “Especially when you come bearing news about our boy.”

“Thank you,” Makoto said, offering the triangle of paper to him. “I just…thank you.”

“Of course,” Watanabe said, taking the letter and tucking it into a pocket. “I will return when I have an answering letter.”

“You don’t have to…”

“The coffee is excellent enough on its own to warrant coming back.” Watanabe shrugged. “And I’m interested to see what happens to the kid.”

“Thank you,” Makoto said softly. “I just have one more question.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, “How did you get the letters to us before? We’ve never been able to figure it out, especially since they appeared on the windowsill in Ren’s room without any trace of who delivered them.”

Watanabe looked away, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You won’t believe me if I tell you,” he warned.

“Try us. We’ve experienced some strange things in the last year,” Makoto said, glancing at Futaba. The younger girl nodded, rolling her eyes and shoving her glasses up her nose.

“A spirit creature started visiting the prison after Amamiya was arrested. It doesn’t show up every day, but it does come fairly frequently." 

A spirit creature? Makoto frowned, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against a seat divider as she thought about that. “What sort of a creature is it?”

“A cat,” Watanabe said, looking embarrassed.

“A _cat_?” both girls blurted in unison.

“That means something to you?” Watanabe asked.

“Um…maybe,” Makoto said, her throat closing up a little. “Can, can you describe this cat?”

“Black and white, with a yellow collar.” Watanabe shrugged a little. “Pretty nondescript, I know, but…” he trailed off, studying Makoto’s face. “But that means something to you.”

“It does,” Makoto agreed, her voice choked off. “Um. Yes. Thank you, for telling us. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon? You look like you’re on your way home.”

“I’ll stop by the prison on my way home to give the letter to Amamiya. I’m sure I’ll be back soon with an answer.” Watanabe bowed slightly to everyone in the café before leaving.

The girls sat in silence for a moment, giving him time to get away. Then Futaba exploded. “Did he mean _Mona_?”

“It sure sounded like Morgana,” Makoto agreed doubtfully. “And it would explain why he knew where to bring the letters.”

“But he _vanished_ ,” Futaba wailed. “Beamed up like some damn Star Trek character!”

“Language, Futaba,” Sojiro chided gently.

“Mmph,” Futaba returned, making her thoughts on _that_ very clear. “If he’s really back, or something happened, why wouldn’t he tell us?”

Makoto folded her hands under her chin as she thought about that. “I don’t know,” she admitted. Then a thought occurred to her. “Can you ask Ohya if a cat in a yellow collar led her to the prison? Maybe that’s why she’s so cagey about it.”

“Ooh, that’s a good thought,” Futaba agreed, going back to her computer and the instant messaging she had set up there. A moment later, something pinged and she grinned triumphantly. “She wants to know how I knew.”

“So he’s doing things in the background,” Makoto murmured, nodding. “Which makes sense, he’s always been better at the sly, subtle things than the rest of us. Maybe he thinks he can work best on his own, without having to worry about us?”

“That’s rude,” Futaba muttered.

“It’s also the sort of thing Ren would do,” Makoto pointed out.

“Sure, but he’s our leader. We trust him to make smart decisions. Mona isn’t always the best at making good choices. Like when he decided to take off because Ryuji was being a moron.”

“True,” Makoto agreed. “But now that he knows where he came from and has all of his memories back, maybe he has a clearer head and can make good choices.”

“Maybe.” Futaba typed for a moment before looking at Makoto over the edge of her screen. “Should we tell the others?”

Makoto frowned, considering that. “No, I don’t think so,” she said at last. “We don’t know for sure. If it’s an actual spirit cat that isn’t Morgana, better to leave it alone to work. If it is Morgana, he has his reasons for not telling us. And either way, we can’t prove anything.”

“I could always pull the security footage…”

“No. Let’s let him work, and trust that he knows what he’s doing.” Makoto looked at her phone and sighed.

“Let’s hope he does?” Futaba suggested with a weak little laugh. Then she brightened up. “Oh! Ohya had other news: her colleague tracked the lady down. She sent me all the pertinent information; we can find her and poke her to do the right thing.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all morning,” Makoto said with a relieved laugh. “Let’s get on that. The sooner we talk to her, the sooner we have a chance to get Ren home.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Ren drifted in his dreams, a confused collection of noises and lights that never coalesced into anything interesting. Then a familiar door appeared in front of him. He’d dreamed about the Velvet Room several times since the Incident in the yard, but they had only been dreams, rehashing things that had already happened with the twins.

This felt different. This felt real. He hesitated a moment before reaching out and opening the door, noticing his red-gloved hand on the handle as it opened smoothly under his touch and he fell through into the open cell.

“Ah, Trickster.” Igor’s raspy voice welcomed him as he stepped out into the open room in front of the table. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“It was my pleasure, sir,” Ren replied, manners taking over. Then curiosity won: “I am truly here, right?”

“Yes, you are,” Igor agreed. “I thought we should meet and speak one more time, before you return to your life.”

A chair materialized beside Ren, and he sat, crossing one leg over the other. Just like the last time he’d been in the Velvet Room, he was in his full Joker ensemble. He’d missed it, the comforting weight of the mask sitting on his nose and the sweep of the coat around his shoulders. He smoothed a hand over the fabric before turning his full attention to Igor. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your friends have been working very hard out in the world,” Igor observed, folding his hands under his nose. “Fighting for your freedom.”

That didn’t require a verbal response from Ren, so he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“You have reconnected with your Persona, with manifestations in the real world.”

A moment of panic swept through Ren. He didn’t know what sort of powers Igor had; he hadn’t had time to really talk to the old man, after Yaldabaoth had taken over for so long. Could he seal Ren away from Satanael?

As if in answer to his thought, Satanael manifested behind him, standing behind Ren’s chair and filling the room. Feeling his Persona backing him up gave Ren courage, and he lifted his chin as he nodded. “I have,” he agreed.

“Mm,” Igor murmured, looking up at Satanael. “A fine specimen. Oh, have no fear. I cannot take him away from you. Your teammates may be able to access their Personas as well, if they have need.”

“They can?” Ren frowned, trying to think through the logistics of it all. Satanael pulled back, and he felt the Persona sink back under his skin.

Igor chuckled. “You will understand more of the world and its cognitive power when you return to your family, Trickster.” For just a moment, he looked so tired and alone, and Ren’s heart hurt for the old man. He didn’t know anything about Igor, but he didn’t like to see people hurting.

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” Ren asked quietly.

“For me?” Igor looked up, clearly taken aback by the question. “Do you know, you are the first Trickster to inquire after my needs?” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Come to the door in Shibuya when you return home. It is the last such door that remains open to you. I will make a request of you then. For now…” He glanced at Lavenza, who opened her book.

“Your registry remains preserved,” she said in her sweetly melodic voice. “But your time as the Trickster has come to an end. You have seen your journey through, traveling from the innocent Fool to the understanding World. You may return to a regular life again, to be a teenager and grow into an adult.”

A normal life. He’d only been Joker for eight or nine months, and yet he couldn’t imagine what life was going to be like without the Metaverse, without Mementos, without missions with his friends. His eyes filled with unbidden tears, and he removed his mask to brush them away.

Lavenza paused, looking up at Ren with compassionate eyes. “I am told the transition to a normal life may be difficult. My advice for you is this: find another way to seek justice for those who cannot fight for themselves. Speak for those without voices.” She opened her hand, holding Ren’s eyes. “You don’t need the mask any longer.”

“Perhaps not,” Ren agreed, putting the mask back on his face as he stood. “But it is a part of me, and I will not willingly give it up.”

Igor chuckled, and Lavenza smiled as she nodded. “We may call on you again, should there be need,” she said. “Best of luck to you…Joker.”

“And to you as well. Lavenza, Igor,” Ren said, bowing deeply to both of them. “Thank you.”

“Whatever could you be thanking us for?” Lavenza asked.

“I have a place where I belong now,” Ren said quietly. “A home, filled with my family. I owe that to the work I have done during the last year. Perhaps you didn’t choose me – I don’t know how that works, and I’m sure I wouldn’t understand if you explained. But regardless, you guided me as best as you could, in the circumstances, and sent me Morgana.” God, he missed that cat. “So, thank you. I am certain I would be dead in a Palace somewhere, alone and unmourned, without your guidance.”

Lavenza curtsied, and Igor nodded. “Return to your rest,” Lavenza advised. “You still have a great deal of healing to do.”

Ren nodded, bowing again before leaving. He felt the door closing, the vibration shivering through his whole body. Then he woke up, his eyes flying open as he grunted in pain. Oh lovely, he hadn’t gotten a recent dose of pain medication. He fumbled around, trying to find the nurse call light before he remembered that he was in prison and they probably didn’t have those.

Oh no, and even worse, he could feel a coughing fit coming on. _‘No, please no,’_ he thought at his body, trying to get it to calm down.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t work. He began coughing, letting out sharp noises of pain between each cough as he clung to the bedrails. His chest was on fire, and he couldn’t stop coughing, and his shoulders were about to catch fire.

The door opened, and a white-garbed nurse came through as fast as she could. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as she pushed a syringe of liquid through his IV line. “So sorry, I was supposed to get this changed out, but the bastards delayed me.”

Ren couldn’t find the breath to reassure her through the coughs, so he shook his head a little. The pain medication felt like it took a small eternity to kick in, but at last, he was able to catch a breath. “Okay,” he whispered, sinking back into the pillows. “Yeah, I was right. That sucks.”

“Coughing with broken ribs is awful,” the nurse agreed, changing out the medication bags and checking the drip. “I’m so sorry, I should have been here sooner.”

“Not your fault,” Ren replied softly, shaking his head. “Hi. Thanks for the medication, it’s helping.”

That surprised her into a smile, and she nodded. “Hi. You’re welcome. I’m glad I can help. It’s about time for food, are you hungry?”

He’d promised Makoto he’d take care of himself. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he needed food to help recover. “A bit,” he replied.

“I’ll bring you something,” she promised, nodding quickly. “Anything else I can do to help make you more comfortable?”

Well, at least she wasn’t terrified of him because of the Phantom Thief thing. He could almost feel the weight of the mask on his face, a comforting solidity that reminded him who he was and what he was capable of. “Some water?” he asked, forcing himself to focus on the mundane at the moment. He could think about the repercussions of his meeting with Igor later, when he was alone again.

“God, yes, of course.” She considered the situation before filling a plastic cup with water and capping it, slipping a straw through the little hole. “Can you reach it here?” she asked, putting it on the bedside table.

He reached up experimentally, his shoulders complaining but not hurting too badly, and wrapped his hand around the handle of the cup. “Seems like,” he said with a nod. “Thanks.” He lifted the cup and pulled it up to his face, chasing the straw with his lips for a second before catching it and taking a deep drink.

When he’d drunk his fill, he carefully put the cup back on the table. Even that small effort exhausted him, and he closed his eyes with a sigh. This whole thing was just insult to injury. Bad enough he was hurt, without adding the horrifying pain and exhaustion of recovery to the list.

“Amamiya-kun?” Right, the nurse was still there. Ren blinked his eyes open, looking up at her with a smile he hoped was reassuring. It must not have been as good as he hoped; she looked worried. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“As all right as I can be, under the circumstances,” Ren replied quietly. “But things are as they are, and there isn’t much that can be done to change them.”

The nurse bit her lip as she considered. “Okay,” she agreed unhappily. “Get some rest; I’ll be back with food shortly.” With that, she slipped out of the room, and Ren heard the heavy bolt close behind her.

Get some rest. That was the go-to phrase for pretty much anyone when they had to deal with someone who was hurt or sick. He was exhausted, but he was also restless. He hadn’t gotten to move his legs properly since the Incident; with the pain medication, they kept him in bed pretty much all the time. And while he usually slept on his back anyway, staying on his back all the time was slowly driving him mad.

He reached up, touching his face where he could feel the slight pressure of his mask. It wasn’t real, of course. But it was enough to reassure him a little. Exhaling, he found that internal spark where Satanael rested behind the center of his forehead and drew his Persona forward. “Pity you can’t heal me,” he murmured into the silence.

 _‘Endure,’_ rumbled that voice in the back of his mind. _‘This is merely a breath in the overall scheme of things.’_

“Yeah, well, it effin’ sucks,” Ren grumbled. Ryuji’s turns of phrase really had rubbed off on him.

_‘After your struggle against the God of Control, mere recovery is worth your breath for complaints?’_

“Fighting gods is easy compared to recovering from wounds, especially without Mementos to assist,” Ren returned.

He felt more than heard Satanael’s laugh at that comment. _‘Your perspective is an interesting one, Trickster.’_

“You’re so kind.” Ren leaned his head over so he could rub his forehead. Conversations with Personas always gave him a slight headache. He suspected he was using parts of his brain that most people didn’t, and there were side effects for things like that.

The bolt slid back, and the door opened, letting the nurse back in. This time, Watanabe accompanied her. “Hey, the man of the hour,” the warden said with a smile.

Ren frowned slightly. “What?” A dumb response, but he had no idea what Watanabe was talking about.

“Apparently, the photos that reporter – Ohya, was it? Anyway, the photos she took wound up in the hands of a prosecutor. Nakamura has been arrested, and all signs point to him being in prison for a long while. Assaulting a prisoner under his care? That’s something the justice system takes a dim view towards.”

Well. That was an unexpected development. Ren lay there a moment, absorbing the full implication of that information. Then he tilted his chin up a little. “Would that prosecutor happen to be Sae Niijima?”

Watanabe grinned. “One and the same. And now that the dust has settled a bit, I’ve been promoted to fill the sudden absence of a chief warden on this unit, effective this morning.” He produced a key and unlocked the handcuffs on Ren’s wrists. “The door is locked all the time anyway. And Sato-san says the medical staff feels safe with you unrestrained. Just don’t start doing headstands or anything crazy like that, you’ll hurt your shoulders.”

Ren rubbed his wrists, glorying in the sudden freedom as Watanabe unlocked his ankles. “I can’t begin to thank you enough,” he said sincerely, looking between the nurse and Watanabe. “I was starting to go a bit stir-crazy.”

“Ah, you’ve earned it,” Watanabe said easily. “You’ve been a model prisoner the whole time you’ve been here. That earns you some freedom.”

Except for the whole bit where he’d defied a warden. But that ended well for Watanabe, so he wasn’t likely to punish Ren for something like that. Ren nodded. “I’ll do my best to continue the trend,” he murmured.

“See that you do,” Watanabe said mock-seriously. “All right, I have a million things to do, starting with disassembling that punishment tree and setting the pieces on fire. You get some rest. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” With that, he headed out, closing the door behind himself.

“I brought some light food,” the nurse, apparently Sato, offered. “Still feel up to eating?”

“More than ever before,” Ren said, using the bed controls to bring the head of the bed up into a sitting position. He groaned as he pulled his legs into a cross-legged seat, his muscles protesting the movement after so long without.

“Feel a little better?” Sato asked with a sympathetic smile as she set the tray of food on the bed in front of him.

“Far better,” Ren agreed. He experimentally shifted his shoulders, trying to see how they were responding. He winced and stopped immediately when they protested the movement. “My shoulders aren’t thrilled with me, but otherwise, I’m in far better shape now.”

“Being able to move around as your body allows will help a lot,” Sato agreed. “Also, there’s a toilet built into the wall behind your bed. If you feel safe walking, feel free to use it when you need it.”

It was such a small thing, being able to use the toilet on his own, but it meant the world after several days of having to use a bedpan. Ren swallowed and nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Sato paused a moment, her hands in her pockets as she looked at Ren. “My brother works for Big Bang Burger,” she said quietly. “I watched him work himself to death every day; he was on the verge of mental and physical collapse. And then Okumura died, his daughter and the board took over, and I’ve seen such a massive improvement in my brother since. But murder…God. Did you kill Okumura?”

“No,” Ren said quietly. “We changed his heart, and that prompted the news conference. Someone else killed him in the process.”

Sato nodded, and he was relieved to see that she believed him. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you and the Thieves did. I’m glad you aren’t murderers.”

“We have never been murderers,” Ren said, unconsciously resting a hand on his heart. They’d worked so damn hard to change the world without hurting people; it hurt his heart to know some people believed they were murderers. “We’ve only ever wanted to help people like your brother, people who can’t fight back against someone as powerful as Okumura.” He sighed quietly, again coming face-to-face with the fact that they couldn’t do that with their powers in the Metaverse anymore.

 _‘Then find another way,’_ Satanael rumbled from his spot behind the center of Ren’s forehead. _‘There are many ways to fight for justice: find a new path.’_

Ren’s lips quirked up into a small smile as he nodded slightly. That was the plan, if and when he got free of this place. But Igor had spoken of his freedom as a certainty, without a shade of doubt. He didn’t know Igor’s powers, but he felt pretty safe trusting that the old man knew what he was talking about.

“I’ll be back in a bit for the tray,” Sato said, resting her hands on her thighs and bowing to Ren. “Take your time, Amamiya-kun.”

“Thank you,” Ren said, deeply uncomfortable with the show of respect but unsure how to say anything about it without coming off as rude.

Sato slipped out, closing the door and locking it behind her. Ren waited a moment, letting his head drop forward and breathing deeply. He hated how emotional he got when he was on pain medication. Once he was sure he had himself under control again, he started eating. It wasn’t Sojiro’s curry, but it was better than the usual prison fare, and he wondered if that was normal for prisoners in the infirmary.

Well, no matter. He needed to focus on getting well, because if Igor was right, he’d be going home soon. He wanted to be as whole as possible when he was returned to his family. That in mind, he polished off his food, and was asleep when Sato came back for the tray.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The party was starting to wind down in Leblanc. They had a lot to celebrate, with Ren coming home from prison and Morgana returning from the dead. They’d given the cat a lot of shit for staying gone when he’d come back from his supposed death, but Ren defused the situation when he pointed out that Morgana was responsible for keeping him sane and making sure Ohya was in the right place at the right time. Needless to say, everyone was inclined to be a little more charitable after that.

Ren settled back in his corner of the booth, watching everyone with a sleepy smile. He had worked hard on getting better while in prison, and even without Mementos, he was a fast healer. Had to be, really. He didn’t need the slings anymore, which was a relief. He’d been worried he might have to come home in slings and scare the daylights out of everyone. His shoulders weren’t completely healed, though, so he had to be careful about his movement.

“Hey, Ren?” He looked up at Ann as she leaned over from the adjacent booth. It took a second for him to focus on her face; he’d taken one of the good pain pills an hour ago, and the world was a bit fuzzy around the edges.

“Hey Ann,” he replied with a soft smile. “What’s up?”

“We’re getting ready to head out,” she said, nodding at the other Thieves.

“I guess it is getting pretty late,” Ren agreed, yawning as he reached up and absently rested a hand on her wrist. “Sure I can’t talk you guys into staying over and making use of the blanket forts upstairs?”

“We couldn’t possibly impose,” Ann said, kissing his forehead.

“No, really.” Ren blinked up at her, swallowing hard. He heard the others pause in what they were doing, everyone focusing on him as he struggled to deal with his emotions. Strong pain meds plus about seven weeks of not being touched except in anger…he was a needy little thing at the moment. “You wouldn’t be imposing. I…” He cleared his throat, and Ann glanced up at the others. “I’ve missed everyone,” he finished lamely.

That sentence didn’t come anywhere near touching how badly he needed his family around him. He’d been so alone and so frightened. Watanabe had helped as much as he could, but he wasn’t _family_.

Makoto came over, sitting next to him and resting her hand on his thigh. “What do you need, love?” she asked softly. “We’re here for you.”

He hated being this needy, but he’d learned that he could ask for what he needed and they wouldn’t judge him. And right now, what he needed was as much touch as he could possibly get. “Could…” He coughed, making a face as a lump caught in his throat. “Could we have a puppy pile? Just for tonight?”

Makoto smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Won’t that be hard on your shoulders and ribs?”

“Not if we’re careful.” He rested his forehead against hers, greedily breathing in her presence. He wanted to drown in her, wanted to wrap himself up in her and never let her go. “Please?”

“How could I possibly say no?” She ran her fingers gently through his hair as she turned to look at the others. “Right, we’re having a puppy pile night. Could you guys get the bedding sorted out?”

“Hurray!” Haru cheered, heading for the stairs with a delighted little bounce. Laughing, the rest of the Thieves followed her up, leaving Ren and Makoto alone downstairs.

They could hear Morgana bossing the Thieves around as they pulled mats into a workable configuration, and Ren smiled. “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he murmured, closing his eyes and exhaling. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Makoto replied softly. She scooted around him, putting her back against the wall before urging him to lean on her. He didn’t need much in the way of convincing; he was more than happy to lean against her and rest his head on her shoulder as he relaxed.

Makoto was real. She was solid. This wasn’t like the many, many dreams he’d had of her while alone in his cell. He wasn’t going to wake up shaking with cold and loneliness. This was real. The fact that he had to keep telling himself that, though…he wrapped an arm around her waist carefully and held tight, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

“I’m right here,” Makoto said softly, petting his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Hold onto me as much as you like, okay?”

Ren nodded against her shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I missed you, too,” Makoto murmured, resting her cheek on his hair. “More than I can possibly say.”

He couldn’t break. Not right now. He was getting what he needed from his family, and he was _not_ going to drag them out of the celebration to deal with his stuff. Slipping a hand under her shirt, he ran his fingers gently up and down her spine as he breathed in time with his love. He couldn’t keep the tears back, though. They oozed out of the corners of his eyes, seeping into the fabric under his cheek.

Makoto, bless her heart, didn’t say anything about the tears. She seemed to sense he needed time to cope with everything, and tears were part of the process. Instead, she ran her fingers through his hair, gently scritching his scalp as she hummed softly.

Ren drifted, losing track of time as he rested in the love he could feel radiating from Makoto, listening to the chatter from upstairs as his family prepared the cozy nest he needed for the puppy pile. He was loved. He was wanted. They’d worked so hard to get him home, and now they could enjoy the brief time they had left before he had to go back to Inaba.

No, he wasn’t going to think about that for a while. He didn’t have the emotional energy to think about his mother and stepfather.

Someone came clattering down the steps, breaking the slow, lazy drift, and Ren raised his head a bit to look at Ann. She was beaming in delight. “We’re all set!” she announced. “Whenever you’re ready to come up, okay?”

“I think we’re about ready?” Ren asked, looking up at Makoto. He realized that her eyes were damp, too. He leaned up carefully and kissed her. “Let’s go get some sleep,” he said softly.

“Sleep sounds wonderful,” Makoto agreed softly, wiping her eyes.

Ren carefully disentangled himself from his girlfriend and stood by the counter, waiting for her to scoot out of the booth. He took her hand as soon as she was within reach, lacing his fingers with hers. He couldn’t stand to be too far from her at the moment.

They walked hand-in-hand up the stairs to the loft bedroom, and Ren paused at the top of the stairs to take in what the Thieves had done. His room was a bit Spartan before, even with the decorations he’d collected from various outings with his friends. That was not even remotely true anymore; the floor was covered with mats, piles of pillows, and inviting blankets. Futaba was perched in her usual place on the sofa, grinning at the look on Ren’s face as she stroked Morgana’s fur absently. “Whatcha think?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” Ren said, blinking rapidly to banish the tears that were threatening. “I…thank you, guys.”  
  
“Go get your jammies on, weirdo,” Ryuji said, tossing a pillow at him with a grin.

“Who are you calling a weirdo, weirdo?” Ren returned, shifting his balance enough to kick the pillow back at his friend.

“Okay, you two, stop flirting,” Haru laughed. The rest of the Thieves were already in their jammies; apparently, they’d started sleeping over at Leblanc enough to start keeping a couple changes of clothes apiece in Ren’s loft. He liked that, especially right now, when his introvert needs were heavily outweighed by his need for contact and connection.

Sighing dramatically, Ren let go of Makoto’s hand and went to retrieve his pajamas.

A few minutes later, everyone was in jammies and figuring out the configuration for the optimal puppy pile that wouldn’t hurt Ren’s ribs or shoulders. In the end, they decided on Ren laying on Makoto, with everyone else sprawled around the couple and curled up comfortably. Despite his worries on the subject, she assured him he wasn’t too heavy and that she was perfectly comfortable.

They lay awake talking late into the night, quietly discussing plans for outings, figuring out how to navigate the last weeks of school before finals, and generally following any sleepy rabbit trail that came up. Ren mostly listened, occasionally adding something if he thought he had anything important to say, but he was far more interested in drinking in the sweetness of his family’s voices.

One by one, people dropped off to sleep, until only Makoto and Ren were awake. She had her arms wrapped around him carefully, her hands resting on his back under his shirt. “Still okay?” he murmured.

“Better than,” she murmured back. “You?”

“Mm-hm. This doesn’t put much pressure on anything that hurts; it’s perfect.” He shifted a tiny bit, tucking his head into the hollow of her shoulder with a sigh of delight.

“How are you otherwise?”

Ren winced, grateful for the darkness concealing his expression. He knew what she was talking about, and knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get away with a flippant answer. “Recovering,” he said honestly. “But I think that’s going okay.”

“Yeah?” Makoto ran her thumb up and down his spine in a soothing rhythm. “Think you’ll have dreams?”

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t. He’d had dreams every night since his visit with Igor, all of which were collections of his worst moments. But he was with Makoto and his family. He could hear them breathing; a couple of them were snoring. His senses were filled with reassurance that he wasn’t alone. That might help. “I hope not. They don’t tend to be good dreams.”

Makoto hummed, a softly sympathetic sound as she kissed his temple. “I’m here if you do.”

“I know.” He nuzzled into her neck, getting her to giggle as he tickled her sensitive skin.

“Stop that, you meanie.” She dug her nails gently into his back as a warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he teased, lifting his head and looking at her in the dim light. He couldn’t see her blush, but he felt the little muscle jumps and shifts that he associated with her being embarrassed.

“Shh, don’t wake the others.” But she did dig her nails in a little harder, and he purred as he settled back on top of her. Her point made, she smoothed her fingertips over the spot she’d marked. “I swear I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

“I could make some suggestions.”

“ _Shush_ , you.” She was laughing softly, and he would put good money on her blushing bright red if he could see her. “Go to sleep; we can talk about anything else tomorrow.”

“On Valentine’s Day. How appropriate.” He kissed the soft spot under her ear, smiling as she shivered just a little. “All right, I suppose we should get some sleep.”

“Mmm. Good idea.” She fell quiet for a long while, long enough that he was almost asleep when she asked, “Ren?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so. In time.” That, at least, was completely honest. He wasn’t completely okay at the moment, and might not be for a long while. But he was on a path to healing.

“Okay. Good.”

Thus reassured, Makoto let out a soft little sigh, and he felt her relaxing down into sleep. He wasn’t long behind her, thanks to the overwhelming exhaustion and the pain pill doing its job.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“So, what do we think?” Sojiro asked, setting a plate of curry and a mug of coffee in front of Ren and leaning against the counter companionably. “About ready to go back to school?”

Ren scooped up a fork and made a face at the older man. Sojiro had been against him going back to school right away, arguing that if Ren still needed the good pain medication, he shouldn’t be in school. But Ren had recovered enough that he could manage with over the counter medication while in school, as long as he didn’t run or roughhouse. “I’m very ready,” he replied, adjusting the turtleneck so the chevrons showed a little better above his blazer collar. “I love being home, but I’m going stir-crazy.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Sojiro nodded. “You’re sure you’ll be okay? Going back to normal isn’t always easy after something weird like solitary confinement.” The corners of his mouth pinched, and Ren knew just how angry Sojiro actually was about that whole situation. Boss didn’t show anger often, so when he did, Ren knew it was the sort of rage that would result in a Persona manifesting, if the Metaverse was still accessible.

“Makoto is walking with me to school,” Ren said, glancing at the door. She hadn’t spent the night the night before, saying she needed to get some things done at home, but she was coming to pick him up sometime soon. “And Ryuji and Ann will be hanging close during classes.” They hadn’t really discussed it, but this was the first time Ren was going into the public space after being outed as the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Their final mission was done and now they could be normal students again, but he had no idea how things were going to be with that knowledge out in the world. He shot Sojiro a reassuring smile. “They won’t let me be by myself, don’t worry. The Thieves still hang close together.”

“Thought you guys disbanded,” Sojiro grumbled, sipping his coffee.

“Sure, officially,” Ren chuckled. “But we’re still a family.”

Morgana trotted down the stairs and jumped onto his chair. “We are indeed,” he agreed with a grin up at Ren and Sojiro.

Sojiro put a bowl of food in front of Morgana, who mewed his thanks before diving headfirst into the food. Smiling to himself, Ren focused on eating his food as well. He was gaining back the weight he’d lost in prison, and he was on track to being back to normal. Normal was a strong word, of course, but he felt comfortable using it.

The bell jingled over the door as Makoto came into the cafe with a warm smile for everyone. “Good morning,” she greeted as Ren finished his curry and got up.

“Morning,” Sojiro replied, passing her a fresh cup of coffee. “Don’t linger too long, you don’t want to be late on this guy’s first day back.”

“We’ll try to avoid that,” Makoto agreed, sipping the coffee. “That would set the worst example, and I can’t afford that as student council president.”

Ren chuckled, settling Morgana in his bag and testing the weight on his shoulder. It hurt more than he expected, which reminded him to take his OTC medication.

When he looked up from swallowing the pills, he caught Makoto giving him a very concerned look. “Is the weight going to be too much for your shoulder?” she asked quietly.

Honesty was the only policy with Makoto, especially after all he’d put her through. “Maybe,” he admitted. “It hurts, but I’m waiting to see if the medication helps.”

She finished her coffee and set the cup down with an appreciative noise. “Thank you, Boss,” she said. “We should get going?”

Which meant he was in trouble, but she didn’t want to yell at him in the cafe. Shifting his shoulders carefully, Ren waved goodbye to Sojiro. “If I don’t come home, light a candle for me or something,” he joked before realizing that might be in poor taste after everything.

“I’ll find a bright pink one for you,” Sojiro returned, tossing a wadded-up napkin at the kid. “Go on, she won’t murder you too badly.”

“Aren’t I lucky,” Ren said, giving Makoto an adoring look.

“You can’t charm your way out of this one,” Makoto warned, but he could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“Time to go blow them all away!” Morgana agreed, poking his head out of the bag. “One month left to show the city slickers up, Joker!”

Joker. Morgana had never really called him anything else, so Ren wasn’t sure why it felt like a little electric shock to the heart to hear his code name. He smiled, shaking it off. “Always my goal,” he agreed, heading for the door and opening it for Makoto.

Once they were out on the street, Makoto reached over and took Ren’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Please tell me right away if it gets bad,” she said quietly. “I carried Morgana before, I can do it again. You’ve only just healed, I don’t want you to hurt.”

Her quiet admonishment was infinitely more effective than any yelling could have been. Ren swallowed and nodded, squeezing her hand. “I should know by the time we get to the station,” he said softly. “Carrying the bag hurts at the moment, but I’m waiting to see if it gets better with the medication.”

Makoto nodded in agreement. “I can accept that.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t stop looking at her. They’d only been apart for a night since he came back, but he was still so needy, and looking at her was like a drink of water for a man in the desert. “Missed you,” he offered softly as they walked toward the station.

“I missed you,” she replied just as softly. “I’ll be back at the cafe tonight. Finally got everything sorted back at the house. If…” she bit her lip. “If you want me to, I’d like to be at the cafe with you until you leave to go back home.”

That was a conversation they needed to properly have at some point in the near future. “I do want,” he agreed softly. “Though I’m not going home. Tokyo has become my home, in Yongen-Jaya. But my mother insists that I need to go back.” He sighed. “I don’t want to.”

“I know,” Makoto agreed, squeezing his hand. “But it’s only for the rest of high school. Then you can decide where you’re going to university.”

“Speaking of, how are preparations for your entrance exams going?” Ren asked, delighted to find an opening to get away from talking about himself.

“Pretty well,” Makoto said, brightening at that. “I’m having to shift the focus, because my new course of study is different from the original. But I think I’ll be ready when it’s time.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Though I always welcome a study partner.”

Ren grinned, bending and kissing her forehead. “I think I can help with that,” he agreed, fighting back a wince as Morgana’s weight shifted in the bag and pulled on his shoulder. Even with the medication, it was getting to be a bit much. “Would you mind taking Morgana? I’ll swear he found a sushi restaurant’s dumpster for food while he was gone.”

“Hey!” Morgana protested as Makoto took the bag and settled it on her shoulder. “I _lost_ weight while I was gone!”

“You sure?” Ren teased, carefully rolling his shoulder in its socket. The muscles protested his action, but the pain was easing a little. Small blessings. He didn’t need to be in pain when he faced Shujin down again. He had a feeling things were already going to be interesting without adding pain to the mix.

Morgana made a rude noise at him, climbing up to rest his paws on Makoto’s shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re wounded, or I’d smack you,” he threatened.

Ren could hear the smile under his mock-anger, and he grinned. “I suppose that makes the wounding a blessing in disguise,” he teased as they turned the corner toward the station.

“Weird perspective on that,” Morgana sniffed. Then he cleared his throat as he settled back into the bag. “Joker, I don’t want to worry you. But have you noticed anything…well, weird about the people around us?”

“Weird?” Ren looked up and around, still holding Makoto’s hand as they walked toward their platform. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the other people, except to vaguely note that there were more than he expected. But after being alone in a small box, he figured any concentration of people greater than the Phantom Thieves in Leblanc would be strange to him.

Now that he was looking, though, he started noticing little weirdnesses. People kept glancing at them before quickly looking away, pretending to be normal. Ren realized there was a bubble of space around them, as if no one wanted to get too close. He frowned, slipping his free hand into his pocket as they waited for the train. “Now that you mention it,” he murmured.

“Why are they looking at us?” Morgana asked, peeking his head out and looking around.

“Damn,” Makoto murmured. She didn’t swear very often, so when she did, Ren sat up and paid attention. She shot him an apologetic look as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I didn’t think people would actually pay attention. Most people don’t, you know. In the city.”

“You know what’s going on?” Ren asked.

“The Phansite never went away,” Makoto explained softly. “Mishima kept it up and running, and used it as a flashpoint for people protesting your imprisonment. I was able to keep a lid on some of it, but you know Mishima when he gets his heart set on something.” She cleared her throat. “He has pictures of you on the website. And it’s a really popular website, based on the visitor counter. So I guess you’re sort of a celebrity.”

A celebrity. _Jesus_. Ren blushed, looking down at his feet and letting his hair fall over his face. “Well,” he said lamely. “That’s…um. Unexpected.”

“They probably won’t approach us,” Makoto added quickly. “But it’s apparently something we’re going to have to be aware of for a while.”

The train arrived then, saving Ren from having to answer. Everyone loaded in, and Ren realized the bubble of empty space around the two Phantom Thieves stayed in place. That was unheard of on the train, and it freaked him out more than he wanted to admit. Clearing his throat, he held Makoto’s hand firmly. It was going to be all right. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit paranoid, with so many people pretending that they weren’t watching him. A Phantom Thief worked best when no one was looking. “I’m beginning to think we should wear disguises or something when we’re out,” he remarked softly.

“Think you could do a good enough disguise to pass unnoticed?” Makoto asked, matching his volume.

“I’d make a very pretty girl,” he returned with a wicked grin in her direction.

It was her turn to blush, and she nudged her hip firmly against his. “Yes, probably,” she agreed. “It’s wicked to tease me like that.”

“I’m a Phantom Thief, my love,” Ren murmured in her ear. “The gentleman thief is always a little…wicked.”

He felt her knees give out a little, leaning her against him as he easily moved to support her. “You’re so lucky we’re in public at the moment,” she whispered back.

“I suppose that depends on what you would do to me if we weren’t,” Ren chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Luckily for Makoto’s blushes, they didn’t have much further to go before they finally arrived at their school stop. He made a mental note to investigate that line of questioning further at another time as they disembarked and walked to the school gate.

The stares were way more obvious here, and Ren’s keen ears picked up snippets of conversations around him. He’d always had extraordinarily good hearing (which made for “interesting” times when he first started school, with the rumors swirling around him), and the time in prison had only sharpened his hearing. It was amazing how much the senses improved when they had to strain for any sign of life outside the confinements of his cell.

“…Phantom Thief, do you think it’s true?”

“What about the others? He wasn’t alone…”

“Do you think Niijima-senpai knows?”

“She _has_ to know, she’s holding his hand!”

“God, it’s just so cool…”

“Do you think he’d sign my calling card?”

Ren picked up the pace a little, getting them into his second-year homeroom. “Well, this is weird,” he remarked, leaning against his desk. “I don’t think I like being a celebrity.”

“Me neither,” Makoto agreed with a sigh. “I wonder if it’s worth it to do something publicly and answer questions once and for all.”

“What if you wrote a statement and published it on the Phansite?” Morgana piped up as he climbed out of the bag and settled himself into Ren’s desk with a happy little sigh. “And then have a question and answer time in the comments for an hour?”

Makoto and Ren looked at each other, considering the possibility. “That would work,” Ren agreed slowly. “Make it clear that we’re only answering questions for that time period, and when it’s done, it’s done?”

Ann came in just then, looking a little more windblown than usual. “Is there something in the Trickster lore that says everything gets upended when he’s around?” she asked, flopping into her chair dramatically. “I’ve never had such a hard time getting around!”

“The whole idea of the Trickster is that they break the status quo and set things back to rights,” Makoto pointed out with a smile. “We’re just in the breaking part of it all.”

“And here I thought the breaking part was when we shot a god in the face,” Ren said.

“No, I think Boss was right, earlier,” Ann disagreed. “Everything already broke, and now we’re dealing with the aftereffects. Rebuilding just always takes longer than the breaking.” She sighed dramatically. “So how are we going to deal with _these_ rumors?”

Makoto filled her in as Ren sent out a text to the group chat, doing the same thing.

_F: That’s a great idea! I’ll run the technical side of it, and Mishima can be the moderator in the comments. He and I can wield the ban hammer if needed._

_A: You just like the idea of whacking trolls._

_Y: Must we spend time answering inane questions?_

_R: That’s a good point. Is there a way to filter the questions, maybe? We got fans, broskis! We gotta give them the good content!_

Ren pursed his lips as he considered that. He didn’t want to answer the same question a million times, or answer stupid questions. Then he wrote: _‘I could have Mishima make an announcement that we will be doing a Q &A, and any questions that people have should be sent in beforehand? So we can filter which ones we’re willing to answer?’_

_M: Good plan. That will give us a necessary element of control, since broadcasting on the internet is always dangerous, at best. Ren, can you talk to Mishima? You’re better at keeping him in check._

Ren nodded as he typed: _‘Consider it done.’_ He slipped his phone into his pocket and sat in his seat with a sigh. “Kind of nice to be back, I have to say.”

“How are you doing?” Ann asked. “Will you need me to run interference?”

“I’m hurting,” Ren said honestly. “But it’s not too bad. Right now, it looks like people are content to stare and gossip. If that changes, I’ll need people to run interference.”

“We’re planning to meet up for lunch, correct?” Makoto asked. “Up on the roof?” Ren and Ann nodded, and Makoto squeezed Ren’s hand. “Text if you need anything,” she said softly, bending and kissing his cheek.

“You’ll be the first to know,” Ren promised softly, returning the kiss. “I’ll see you at lunch, my Queen.”

That never failed to make her blush, and she swatted his leg gently before leaving.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully. Ren decided to message Mishima and meet up with him before heading home, so they could get the ball rolling sooner rather than later.

Mishima was bouncing on his toes nervously in the corner of the yard when Ren approached, his hands in his pockets as he watched the other second-year with mild amusement.

He’d been as open as he could be with the Phantom Thieves about the process of creating Personas and how relationships made the Personas stronger. They didn’t completely understand (to be fair, neither did he), but they did know that each of them was represented by one of the Major Arcana in the tarot. Each of them took it a little differently, but everyone thought it was pretty cool, and underlined how they all needed each other.

All of that to say, when she found out that Mishima was represented by the Moon Arcana, Futaba immediately dubbed him “Moon Moon”. Ren had to fight back a chuckle every time he remembered that, because it was sort of mean, but weirdly accurate.

“Hey,” he greeted Mishima when he was in range for easy conversation. “You doing all right?”

Mishima jumped half a foot, landing with a little squeal of joy as he looked at Ren. “Freaking out a bit, but yeah, sure, good otherwise.” He sounded like he’d been drinking caffeine all day, as if he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Why are you freaking out?” Ren asked, pulling some of his pain medication out of his pocket and downing the pills with a swallow of water. Makoto had Morgana for the moment, since too many people would probably send Mishima right through the roof.

He proved that point by flailing at the air as he spun away from Ren. “You want me, _me_ , to run an AMA. With all of the Phantom Thieves. All of them!”

“Yes,” Ren agreed, amused by this whole thing. “You’ve talked to most of them one at a time before, you know.”

“But not _all of them_ , in one room, _at the same time_!”

“That does seem like the most effective way to do it,” Ren agreed. “Have you bounce the questions at us in the chat room, and we answer on our laptops so no one is trying to transcribe for more than one thing at a time. Part of the fun, I think, will be getting multiple perspectives on the questions.”

Mishima pressed his hands to his cheeks, exhaling slowly. “I mean, I know you’ve disbanded. But still! This will be the last great hurrah of the Phantom Thieves!”

“Maybe don’t yell that?” Ren suggested mildly, sitting on an edge of the building. He was mostly recovered, but that cough hadn’t gone away and his ribs were taking forever to heal. He was drained and ready to go home and get some sleep.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Mishima raked his hands through his hair, nodding rapidly. “Okay. Okay. When do you want to do the AMA?”

“I was thinking Sunday. That way, we can have the largest audience without worrying about school schedules and things like that. The sooner the better, of course.”

“No, I think you’re right. Sunday should work really well. I’ll send out an announcement tonight and start curating questions. Do you want me to send you all of the questions I get?”

“Sure,” Ren agreed, resigning himself to slogging through a lot of messages. “But send them in large batches, okay? I’d rather not dig through a million individual messages.”

“You got it,” Mishima said, stopping just short of saluting. “Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll get that put up as soon as I get home. This is gonna be awesome!”

“I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun,” Ren agreed, hauling himself up with a groan. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, bye!” Mishima was practically giggling to himself as he dashed away.

Shaking his head, Ren went looking for his girlfriend and his cat. He was moving pretty slow, even with the OTC medications helping take the edge off the worst of it. He didn’t have the energy to snarl at the people who stared and whispered about him. He just stared back at them, completely blank-faced, until they turned away blushing in horror as they realized he could hear them.

He was too tired for this shit, and he had to search the entire school for Makoto and Morgana. At last, he found them up on the roof with Haru, avidly discussing the pros and cons of various fertilizers. Smiling, Ren eased himself into one of the discarded desks, closing his eyes a moment as he coughed.

“Ren!” Makoto beamed up at him. Her expression changed to one of concern as she looked him over. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m exhausted,” Ren admitted. “This desk is very comfortable; I think I’ll stay right here until you’re ready to go.”

Morgana had been lounging in the sunlight, but he decided to take an interest in everything going on. Standing up and stretching, he trotted over and jumped up onto the desk. “You look all in,” he remarked. “We should get you home so you can get some sleep.”

Ren chuckled in spite of himself, cringing as he coughed a couple times. “Ow,” he muttered. “I hated prison in every aspect, but at least I could fall asleep when I wanted to.” He managed a tired grin in Morgana’s direction as the cat sputtered in outrage.

“I just didn’t want you getting sick! Then you wouldn’t be able to run fast enough to outrun the Shadows when you’re all out of juice!”

“You’re just bossy,” Ren returned, pressing a careful hand against his ribs. “That’s okay. Most of the best people in my life are, I’ve noticed.” He winked at Makoto, who tossed a dirt clump at him.

“Hmph!” Morgana sat huffily on the desk, turning his nose up. Then he swatted lightly at Ren’s hand. “What’s the word on the AMA?”

“We’re planning it for Sunday. Mishima is putting the word out tonight, and he’ll be sending questions along for us to approve.” Ren yawned, wincing. “Which means I’ll be looking them over, probably. Surprising you guys with the questions will be half the fun.”

“I have a terrible feeling about this,” Haru remarked sidelong to Makoto, who nodded in agreement.

“It won’t be anything too embarrassing, promise. Besides. There won’t be any cameras on us, so it’s entirely possible that a truly embarrassing question might get me mobbed. I’m pretty good at calculating risk; that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Smart man,” Makoto purred, walking over to him and lightly kissing his lips. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“I love the way you think,” Ren yawned.

“I think you’re too tired to risk public transit,” Haru said with a concerned frown. “Let me call the driver. Then we can bring everyone back to Leblanc easily.”

Ren hesitated a moment. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable making use of Haru’s wealth, but she offered it so easily, and she seemed to enjoy helping her friends when they’d accept it. “That’s not a bad idea,” he admitted. “Are we planning to hold a meeting back at Leblanc?”

“Not an official one,” Makoto said, petting his unruly hair down. “Just a meet up to talk about the AMA and make sure Yusuke has eaten this week. You know. Family business.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Ren agreed. “Mako, love, would you mind wrangling everyone while Haru gets the driver?”

“Always the dauntless leader,” Haru said with a warm smile. She came over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be in front of the school with the driver; have everyone come meet us.”

Makoto nodded and sent out the text, summoning everyone to the front and telling Yusuke what was going on. Ren left his phone open so he could watch the comments streaming in, smiling as Futaba complained about never getting to ride in the sweet car.

“We should head down,” he mumbled after a moment of breathing in time with Makoto.

“We should,” Makoto agreed, making absolutely no move to do so.

“But that means getting up.”

“Yes, walking usually requires being upright, I’ve found.”

“I don’t want to get up. It’ll hurt.” He was hitting the slightly whiny stage of recovery; he hated hearing it from himself, but couldn’t entirely stop doing it.

“It probably will,” Makoto agreed softly, stroking his hair. “But then we can go home, and you can have one of your good pain pills, and Sojiro will grunt about how he knew it while making curry for the mob of people in the café. And when they go home, we can go to bed and rest together.”

Ren let himself breathe in the beauty of what she was describing. Then he nodded and reached up, taking her hand in his. “That sounds perfect,” he agreed softly. “Let’s go home, Mako.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“Remind me why I agreed to go on camera?” Ren grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and adjusting his collar. “This seems like the worst idea.”

“Because they already know what your face looks like,” Futaba said from behind her computer. “And people believe videos more than they believe written statements. You’ll be fine. Just talk like you’re talking to us.”

“That’s infinitely harder when there’s a massive black eye staring at me.”

“Then look at me from time to time,” Makoto said, adjusting the camera. “I’ll be right behind it the whole time, you can glance at me.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll just stare at you the whole time.”

“Eww, love birds,” Futaba teased, tossing a wadded up piece of paper at Ren. “C’mon, let’s get this done, okay?”

“I’d rather not start at all,” Ren muttered, but he knew when he was beaten. He straightened his shoulders with a wince and sat up. “Let’s do this, then.”

Makoto took a moment longer to adjust the camera, then nodded. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, Futaba.”

“Go ahead and hit record,” Futaba said, still typing at speed. “I’ll adjust from here and direct him.”

“So bossy,” Makoto teased with a smile, pushing the button and cupping her elbows in her hands as she looked at Ren with warm eyes.

“Every day,” Futaba agreed with a grin over her laptop screen. “Okay, Ren. Remember to breathe, and take your time. I’ll edit the hell out of the opening, and I’ll cut out any mistakes. So relax, and start when you’re ready.”

Ren nodded, bowing his head a little as he gathered himself. He really hated talking on-camera. This was Ann’s area, or Futaba’s, not his. But he was the leader, and everyone knew his face, thanks to the damn cops. Sitting up, he combed his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling it away from his eyes and exposing his face. “It’s show time,” he murmured to himself, finding the Joker mantle.

He felt the pressure of the mask settle against his cheekbones and nose, giving him the boost he needed. Looking into the camera, he exhaled before beginning.

“Greetings and salutations, one and all. My name is Ren Amamiya, and I am the leader of the Phantom Thieves.” Direct and to the point; he wasn’t here to waste anyone’s time. He pulled one leg up and rested the ankle on his opposite knee, looking into the camera with an expression he hoped conveyed a sense of trustworthiness and calm confidence.

“As I’m sure many of you know, the police publicized my mug shot when I was arrested in December. That has made it very hard to remain as anonymous as I prefer to be. Nevertheless, I believe in the people who believed in us, even when it was difficult. Therefore, I am here to offer you an invitation.

“The Phantom Thieves have disbanded; our mission has been accomplished, and we want to go back to having regular lives. However, I have no doubt you have a million questions about us and what we did. On Sunday, we will host our one and only AMA, right here on the Phansite.” He still hated that name, but it functioned well enough. “Our administrator will curate questions; any questions that are selected will be asked on the AMA. You’ll have opportunity to interject as well, but we cannot promise to answer those questions.”

He glanced up at Makoto, who nodded encouragingly and flashed him a thumbs-up. He smiled in spite of himself and shifted in his chair. “Some ground rules: I cannot help that my identity is known. I wouldn’t wish this sort of notoriety on my worst enemy, let alone my best friends. Even if you guess the identities of the other Thieves, we will not answer any questions about who they are. Our methods are incredibly hard to explain, so any question that requires in-depth knowledge of our methods to understand will be ignored. To be clear: none of what we did was illegal. There aren’t laws that cover our activities, and we’re not ashamed of what we did. But our methods are…strange, to say the least, and we’d prefer to be believed.”

He considered a moment before shrugging. “There’s a lot to say about us over the last year or so. Come join us, and we’ll do our best to explain the unexplainable.” He smiled that rakish devil-may-care smile at the camera and held it for a second before turning to Futaba. “Have enough to work with, there?”

“More than,” Futaba agreed with a grin as she continued typing. “You can turn the camera off, Makoto. I’ve got everything I need on here. Ren, dude, that was great.”

“I have to agree,” Makoto said, turning the camera off and coming to Ren. He started to rise as she approached, but sank back into the chair when she shook her head slightly and gestured him down. She rested both hands on his shoulders gently, looking down at him with her crimson eyes boring through into his soul. “I think you’ll be just fine, if you decide to go into politics,” she murmured. Then she bent and kissed him tenderly.

He reached up, cupping her cheek as he returned the kiss. They hadn’t been able to do much since he came back, thanks to everything that had happened and the slow recovery process. But at least they could do this, and he could hold her while they slept.

At last, they parted for air, and he smiled up at her. “Only if you stand behind the cameras when I’m talking to them,” he teased.

“You hardly had to look at me at all,” Makoto chuckled. “I think you’ve done an excellent job of internalizing Yoshida’s teaching. You even had his rhythms down.”

That was a fairly solid point, and Ren considered it for a moment before nodding. “He’s an excellent teacher.”

“And you are an attentive student.” She reached down, taking his hand and helping him stand up. “Let’s get Futaba some food and drink while she’s editing.”

“Thank you!” Futaba called, not looking up from her work.

“Let us know when it goes live?” Ren asked. “I’m morbidly curious.”

“Sure, of course.” Futaba was barely paying any attention to him, which was fair. The fact that she answered him at all was somewhat unusual when she was in the depths of work.

Lacing his fingers with Makoto’s, Ren led the way into the main cafe. For the moment, they were the only ones there. Everyone else was busy getting ready for the gathering on Sunday, or studying for upcoming exams.

“We really should get some studying done,” Makoto said as she sat at the counter. “Exams are coming up sooner than anyone wants, and you should go out with a good final grade.”

“I spent a lot of time reading while locked up in the itty bitty room,” Ren said, trying to make it a joke. It came out far grimmer than he meant it to be. “Ahh. Sorry.”

“For what?” Makoto asked softly. “You’ve been through trauma, love. You have a chance now to slow down and heal from it. That will take time.”

“I don’t have time to take with it,” Ren said, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“I only have a month left with you guys. I don’t…” Ren sighed, putting his apron on and starting to make curry.

“You don’t what?” Makoto asked softly. They’d been dodging around this one since he came back from prison. He was getting better about being open with her, letting her help with the physical side of things. But whenever he came too close to something emotional, he shied back. She wasn’t surprised after around seven weeks in solitary confinement, and she hadn’t been pushing him.

“I don’t want to spend the whole time being angsty and sad,” Ren said, his voice so soft she could barely hear him. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned against the back counter, not meeting her eyes. “A lot’s happened in the last few months. A lot of…a lot of shit. If I stop and think about all of it, I’ll go insane.”

Makoto nodded, resting her hands on the counter. “The world has been excessively unfair to you,” she agreed softly.

That at least got a chuckle out of him, and he winced as he shifted, pressing a hand over his ribs. “That’s the understatement of the century, my love.”

“Still,” Makoto said, getting up and going to lean on the counter next to him. “You’re not being angsty. You’re reacting to what was done to you. Your brain and heart have to heal, just like your body.” She reached over, lightly resting her fingertips on his wrist. He flinched instinctively before shaking his head and making himself relax. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re still hurting from the interrogation room, and everything since then has just piled on top.”

Ren hunched his shoulders in, his breathing going a bit ragged as he visibly tried to maintain control over himself. “Mako…”

Wrapping an arm around him, Makoto tugged him gently to lean against her. “We can’t rush the healing process, love,” she murmured in his ear. “None of us. What happened to you was horrifying and awful, and it’s going to take time for you to heal. It’s all right. I’m here with you. It’s not a burden on me, not even close. I want to help you. Because I love you.”

“God dammit,” Ren choked out as he turned and buried his face in Makoto’s shoulder. “I love you too.” He held onto her, not quite sobbing as tears escaped him. He was so tired. He’d been through so much, including a few things he hadn’t told Makoto (and might never tell her), and he was exhausted. He didn’t feel sixteen going on seventeen. What remained of his childhood had been brutally stripped away in the last year, leaving him exhausted and feeling far more like he was twenty-five going on seventy.

Given the chance, he might have gone about things differently. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he wouldn’t change being the Trickster. The core of his personality was helping people, even if they were blinded to their need.

Still. The last year had taken an unspeakable toll on him, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a year. Preferably cuddled up with Makoto.

All of that came tumbling out of him in broken, jagged sentences that felt like glass in his throat. Makoto didn’t flinch from any of it. She just held him, her head resting against his and her hand stroking up and down his spine in a soothing rhythm as she listened.

Ren paused a moment, long enough that Makoto gave him a questioning look. Then, his voice low, he told her about meeting with Igor and what he had said. “I need to meet with him one last time,” he finished. “I’m not the Trickster anymore, but…” He hesitated, trying to find the right words.

“You want to help him,” Makoto said softly, reaching out and putting a hand over his heart. “Your kind heart won’t let it rest. Because you see that he has a need, and you want to help.”

“Which is ridiculous,” Ren said, cupping a hand over hers and looking down at her. “I don’t know what he is. But it took a literal god to drive him from his roost, and when he came back, he took care of us when we needed it. He’s very powerful.”

“So are you,” Makoto pointed out. “Have you thought about that?” Ren scoffed softly, and she shook her head. “No, I’m serious. You are deeply connected to a lot of powerful people, and you had access to all of those Personas.”

“I don’t anymore.”

“Does he have power in this world?”

Ren frowned a little. “I don’t know, actually. Probably not, if I had to guess, or at least not nearly as much as he does in the Metaverse.”

“So if you were back in the Metaverse, with full access to your abilities and your Personas, could you stand toe-to-toe with him?”

The pause this time was a lot longer as Ren considered that. At last: “Maybe. I don’t know if I would win. But I could hold my own, I think.”

“And that’s by yourself,” Makoto remarked. “Imagine if you had all of us at your side again, with our powers and abilities.”

Ren smiled. “We’d fight him to a standstill,” he said confidently.

“I think so,” Makoto agreed, leaning up and kissing the corner of his mouth. “So don’t degrade yourself for wanting to help him. His power didn’t save him from the god; we had to do that. Maybe there’s some way to help him that he can’t do to help himself.”

“That does seem to be my talent,” Ren said with a crooked smile as he rested his hands on Makoto’s waist.

“All things considered? That’s a pretty good talent to have,” Makoto said softly, sinking into him with a soft sigh.

They stayed there for a moment, wrapped up in each other and the warmth of that time. Then they reluctantly drew apart. “I should make food,” Ren said. “I promised Sojiro I’d make the batch today.”

“Mind if I help?” Makoto asked, grabbing an apron from the hook in the kitchen.

“Of course not.” Ren grabbed a container of Haru’s vegetables and hummed happily as he started preparing them. This was his happy place: with Makoto in the kitchen of the cafe that had become home. Even thinking about what was to come couldn’t dampen his mood.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

[Attached photo of Phantom Thieves from the Shido card with code names under each person.]

Admin: Okay, let’s get this kicked off! Welcome, everyone! Let’s try to keep the commentary down to a dull roar; there’s 20,000 of you guys and only nine of us. Remember the rules Joker put in place in his invitation video: no commentary on the identities of the rest of the Thieves, and no in depth questions about their methods. With that in mind, Joker is gonna lead us out.

Joker: Hi, guys! Answering this question before anyone has a chance to ask: I’m going by my code name in here because Amamiya-kun is too long to type fast, and it’s weird if everyone calls me Ren. A little too informal, I guess.

Skull: What if everyone calls you Renren?

Joker: I will break your fingers, Skull.

Skull: Help, help, juvie over here threatening me!

Anon: Skull stirring the shit!

Anon: Daaaaaaamn! The PTs getting this off to a great start!

Oracle: Oh boy, this is going to be a long AMA.

Queen: Boys, stop fighting.

Joker: I’m kidding.

Joker: Mostly.

Admin: ANYWAY. Shall we get started?

Anon: Dang, admin is getting the PTs to listen?

Admin: Only just, trust me.

Fox: We are not unruly children, thank you.

Oracle: Speak for yourself!

Queen: Okay, guys.

Noir: This is fun! I wish you guys could see us now; the bickering is adorable!

Anon: Noir, stirring the shit in the background; noted.

Anon: Awwwwww. PTs as one massive group of siblings.

Joker: …you’re not entirely wrong, there.

Admin: Question number one! “How did you choose your targets to steal hearts?”

Joker: It’s a bit of a misnomer to say we steal hearts, to be honest.

Fox: It is the most concise way to describe our activities, though.

Anon: Skull stole my heart!

Anon: After the tough boys, huh?

Anon: Duh!

Oracle: Oh my God, we’re all dying over here. Skull’s face is SO RED.

Noir: We could roast marshmallows over his cheeks!

Skull: I hate all of you.

Mona: We love you toooo!

Skull: Shaddup, monster.

Mona: You wanna say that again?!

Joker: I will put all of you in time-out.

Anon: Yes, Dad.

Anon: Sorry, Dad.

Joker: Swear to God…

Joker: ANYWAY. We chose our targets based on the things we could see around us that were wrong.

Skull: Kamoshida was about to expel Joker and a couple people who were standing too close. He’s an asshat.

Joker: And then we found out about the people who were being abused by him. We had just discovered our powers, and how they worked. So we decided to steal his heart.

Anon: You say “we”. Was everyone in the group at that point?

Skull: No. We started with me, Joker, and Mona.

Mona: Damn straight! I found these two chuckleheads in Kamoshida’s Palace, and taught them how to use their power.

Skull: After we let you out of the cage.

Mona: Shut UP!

Skull: Make me!

Joker: You’re both on a five-minute ban.

Mona: You can’t do that!

Oracle: But I can!

_/Users Mona and Skull are in a temporary ban/_

Anon: Wow. Remind me not to piss Joker off.

Anon: He has the power of the Oracle on his side.

Oracle: Muahahaha!!!! Fear my wrath!

Joker: And let’s simmer down a bit.

Panther: I joined the group very shortly after it began; I helped with Kamoshida. That bastard went down under my hand; after all he did to the girls in Shujin Academy and the guys on the volleyball team, it was a pleasure to see him go down.

Anon: Panther confirmed as my fave.

Anon: Plz step on me, Panther.

Anon: So damn HOT

Oracle: Watch it. I can see your IPs, and I will wield the ban hammer on anyone who gets weird on us.

Fox: I was the next to join.

Joker: We knew Madarame was abusing his pupils, stealing their work and claiming it as his own. But it’s hard to prove something like that in a court of law.

Panther: So when we met Fox, who was affected by Madarame, we knew we had to act in the Metaverse.

Anon: Can I ask what the Metaverse is? Or is that too close to asking about methods?

Admin: That’s pretty close to the line. Joker?

Joker: I’ll allow it.

Queen: Basically, the Metaverse is a world adjacent to ours. It looks a lot like ours, and is affected by things in the real world.

Mona: I’m back! And just in time, it looks like.

Mona: So, if a door is locked in the Metaverse, it means that someone who controls that area sees it as a place that is safe and protected from outsiders.

Panther: We ran into that with Madarame’s Palace.

Skull: Man, what we had to do to get into that room!

Panther: STOP RIGHT THERE I WILL KILL YOU.

Anon: Woah. You okay, kittycat?

Oracle: Banned. Go away, you disturbing little manchild.

Anon: Right, okay. No sexist talk around Oracle.

Joker: Or Noir. Or Queen. Or Panther. Half of the team is female, and they have all had it up to the eyeballs with sexist shit.

Anon: When Dad starts swearing…

Joker: I’m not the one to be scared of. I might be the leader, but fully half of the team scares the daylights out of me when they want to.

Fox: If we may return to the topic at hand?

Admin: Please, for the love of God.

Fox: The Phantom Thieves helped me see what I was willfully ignoring. It is hard to admit that someone is not who they say they are. I was very resistant to what they had to say.

Panther: We had to prove it to him, which meant getting him into the Metaverse. In our defense, it kind of happened by accident. The Metaverse is a bit…weird. Even when you’re used to it.

Fox: All of that to say, I joined the Thieves and assisted in taking Madarame down.

Anon: I feel like there’s a lot missing in that description…

Anon: Yeah, I guess that strays too close to the methods question.

Oracle: You get a gold star, Anon.

Anon: Awww! Thanks!

Anon: No fair, I want a star!

Oracle: Have to earn those, boyo.

Joker: You’ve been spending too much time around the doctor, Oracle…

Oracle: You say that like it’s a bad thing!

Joker: Ehhhhh…*hand wibble*

Oracle: Rude. After she’s patched you up so many times, too!

Queen: I was the next one to join. None of us or anyone close to us were affected by the next choice of target. We just knew that taking someone like Kaneshiro down would a) boost our notoriety and b) help the police. Especially since students at Shujin were affected by Kaneshiro’s disgusting work.

Oracle: I came in with the Medjed situation.

Joker: That one was weird. Because we won the war with them, but no one’s heart was changed in the process.

Anon: My bank account and credit score thank you for not dropping the ball on that one.

Queen: Chances were really good they were bluffing. But we didn’t want to take that chance.

Anon: So how did you take them down?

Panther: Honestly, Oracle is the only one who could actually tell you that.

Skull: And none of us plebs would get what the hell she’s talking about. It’s all that hacker lingo, and I barely understand enough to know she’s talking about computers.

Oracle: Muahahaha!

Anon: YOUR HACKER IS A GIRL?!?!?!?!

Oracle: Yeah, what of it?

Anon: THAT’S SO COOL!!!!!!

Oracle: Plz to accept this keyboard in honor of your comment.

Anon⌨: SWEET!!!

Joker: Those emojis are pretty cool, actually.

Oracle: We’ll talk about it later. 

Noir: I was the last to join, while they were working on Okumura’s request. That one should be fairly easy for all of you to understand: I’m sure some of you voted for Okumura to be the next target.

Anon: Fuck yeah!

Anon: Money grubbing asshole everyone hated him

Anon: But he died. How the hell did that happen?

Queen: Noir has stepped away for a moment, so I’ll grab this one. We weren’t ever the only ones aware of and able to use the Metaverse. We’d been hearing about someone else in a black mask for a while, but couldn’t ever track them down.

Joker: We won the day with Okumura. He had a change of heart and was ready to confess like all of our other targets.

Skull: And then that asshat killed Okumura in the Metaverse.

Anon: Whaaaaa?

Panther: Think of it this way: you would die if your soul did. The versions of the people we dealt with in the Metaverse were basically their souls.

Queen: Twisted and corrupted versions, but still their souls. So if those died, the real person would die. That’s what happened to Principal Kobayakawa from Shujin Academy, and to the driver of that train that crashed back in April, and a number of other people over the last two years.

Anon: Metaverse don’t play around.

Anon: Did you ever figure out who that was?

Joker: Yes.

Anon: Aw man does that fall under methods too?

Skull: It falls under things we don’t like talking about, moron.

Joker: Easy, buddy. They don’t know.

Anon: What don’t we know?

Oracle: *Zazu voice* Do you want the short list or the long?

Anon: Dude. Oracle knows musical references. I’m in love.

Oracle: Ewww. Human cooties.

Joker: Back on topic, friends. Our final target was Shido, and we selected him for a whole host of reasons. He employed the person in the black mask and directed that person in their crimes. He manipulated us into going after Okumura, then blamed the murder on us.

Fox: He was a deeply corrupt individual, whose plan for the country would have benefited only him and a select group of his co-conspirators.

Skull: He was a lying, cheating son of a bitch.

Noir: And lest we forget, he was the reason Joker was originally arrested and became labeled a delinquent.

Anon: WHAT?!?!?!

Anon: He did what now?!?!

Anon: What the hell?

Fox: People are fascinating. The previous reasons are stronger arguments in favor of targeting Shido, but the strongest emotional reaction is to the attack on Joker.

Oracle: I’m gonna start calling you Spock instead of Inari.

Fox: That’s not an improvement; neither is my name or code name.

Joker: Like we said. A lot of reasons. Getting my name cleared was a nice bonus, but what he had planned for the country, and his methods of getting there, were the main reasons.

Anon: No no no no you don’t get to brush that aside so easily. What the hell happened?

Joker: Not much to the story. I promise, it’s kind of boring.

Skull: God save me from our modest leader.

Panther: Seriously, though.

Joker: *heavy sigh* Fine. I was walking home in my hometown, heard a woman scream, went to see what was happening. Shido was drunk and trying to force her into his car. I got involved, maybe pushed him harder than I should have, and he got his face cut up. When the cops arrived, he intimidated the woman into telling them that I’d attacked him for no reason whatsoever, and they arrested me.

Anon: YOU GOT ARRESTED FOR DOING THE RIGHT THING?!?!?!?!

Anon: Happens all the time, sweet summer child.

Anon: Corruption runs deep…

Oracle: It does indeed. But it’s all cleared up now.

Joker: And really, at the end of the day, I can only be grateful. I would have never come to Tokyo otherwise, or found my adopted family in the Thieves, or fallen in love. The circumstances were a bit awful, but the results are amazing.

Anon: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Anon: It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!

Anon: Wait, fall in love?! Who’s the lucky person?

Joker: Let’s just accept that I’m not going to expose the person I love to Internet-wide scrutiny and move on, all right?

Anon: Spoilsport!

Anon: Come on, that’s the gentlemanly thing to do, lay off the dude.

Oracle: And you get a cookie, Anon.

Anon: Yay!

Anon: White knight bullshit, there.

Oracle: Banned. Buh-bye!

Anon: Yeesh. Oracle is not having with anyone’s nonsense.

Oracle: Ain’t nobody got time for that!

Admin: Now that we’ve settled a bit, are we ready for the next question?

Joker: Let’s do it.

Admin: Question number two: based on comments about fighting and stuff, can you talk about what your power sets are?

Noir: Oh, this is the fun part! Fighting in the Metaverse is just such a delight!

Anon: I can’t decide if I’m afraid or turned on right now…

Skull: Join the club, dude.

Joker: Let’s start from the top with Skull and work our way down the list in order of joining.

Skull: Shouldn’t we start with you, then?

Joker: It’ll be easier to explain my power set after you guys run down your powers.

Skull: I guess that’s fair. Okay, fine. My power set mostly focused on brute strength beatdowns and lightning strikes.

Mona: Because Skull thinks with his fists.

Skull: Dude, you’re really pissing me off!

Joker: I’ve banned you both once, I’ll do it again if I have to.

Anon: Aw, c’mon Dad. It’s fun to watch them fight!

Joker: They’ve been like this since April of last year. It gets old pretty fast. Mona, stop antagonizing Skull.

Mona: Fiiiiine.

Joker: There you go.

Anon: So Skull punches things a lot?

Skull: Nah, bro. I hit things with a lead pipe.

Anon: That’s WAY cooler!

Anon: Dude! You hit people with a lead pipe?!

Skull: No! Not people, that would be awful!

Panther: We should maybe discuss Shadows a little?

Fox: That would seem to edge into the territory of discussing our methods.

Oracle: But people think we’re beating the shit out of actual people!

Mona: Come on, no one actually thinks that, do they?

Anon: I mean…

Anon: You guys are being kinda cagey about this…

Anon: Something to hide, maybe?

Oracle: …Anon. We’re called the Phantom Thieves. We wear masks in the Metaverse. Maybe think about that?

Anon: That’s not reassuring.

Queen: Joker?

Joker: Okay, simmer down, everyone. I’ll explain Shadows.

Joker: The Metaverse is a world that’s adjacent to ours, as we said. In that world, people’s intentions and minds affect pretty much everything. We can shape it around ourselves to a point, but there’s a lot of people in Tokyo, and their beliefs and background thoughts shape the Metaverse.

Joker: So in the Metaverse, those thoughts and intentions and beliefs coalesce into physical beings we call Shadows. They’re pretty much universally hostile because we’re there to disrupt the status quo, and people are opposed to that.

Anon: But they’re not actual people?

Mona: No, we’re the only actual people in the Metaverse.

Oracle: Think of it like a video game. We had to beat the Shadows down to get to our goal, but they’re made of the same pixels as the rest of the world around us.

Anon: Huh.

Anon: Okay, that’s a lot better than beating down people.

Anon: They’re free calories!

Queen: Everyone feel a little better about all of this?

Anon: Way better.

Joker: Good. Mona, you were next.

Mona: And my power set is the coolest! I controlled wind! I was also the primary healer in the group, so if people got hurt, I could get them patched up in a flash.

Panther: He also had this ability called Miracle Punch, which is just the best, especially when a Shadow doesn’t have any weaknesses to our elemental attacks. It knocks them over like bowling pins, so we can do an All Out Attack!

Anon: Which is…?

Anon: What’s that?

Fox: In essence, we were able to focus our full strength into striking down the Shadows while they cannot fight back.

Skull: We really piled into the mothereffers!

Anon: Brutal!

Panther: There were a lot of them, and only a few of us. We had to conserve our strength as much as possible.

Joker: Speaking of, it’s your turn to talk about your power set.

Panther: Oh yeah! I controlled fire, mostly. I had a little healing ability, and some ability to boost my teammates, but I mostly focused on dropping a firestorm on Shadows.

Anon: How fitting!

Anon: Sexy Panther bringin’ the fire!

Oracle: Panther, you okay with that?

Panther: It’s fine. Flattering, actually!

Fox: I was the next to be recruited. Which is fitting, because I controlled the element of ice. I created beautiful arrangements of sword strikes and ice crystals; truly, each attack was a work of art.

Oracle: Translated from Inari-speak: he did slashing attacks and ice stuff.

Fox: Your oversimplification pains me, Oracle.

Oracle: I know. Your pinched face is adorable.

Anon: Get a room.

Anon: Srsly.

Oracle: GROSS

Joker: Guys, lay off the hacker and the fox. They get a bit sensitive on the subject.

Fox: What subject? There isn’t a subject to be discussed in this area.

Joker: Like I said. Queen?

Queen: Oh, yeah. My turn. Mine was the first ability set that broke out of the traditional elements: I controlled nuclear energy. I was also the secondary healer; I couldn’t revive someone if they were knocked unconscious, so Mona took the main healer role, but I was a good backup if he was injured.

Anon: NUCLEAR?!?!?!

Anon: Queen had tiny nuclear explosions at her command?!?!

Joker: In essence, yeah.

Anon: HOLY SHIT

Anon: SO COOL

Anon: Wasn’t that dangerous for you guys, tho? To be so close to nuclear explosions?

Panther: Different rules in the Metaverse.

Oracle: Yeah, so if there ARE any long-term effects, we probably won’t figure it out until we go to have kids or get cancer in thirty years.

Joker: That won’t happen

Oracle: He CLAIMS! *X-Files music plays*

Joker: Did you want me to go with you on that quest or what?

Oracle: Yipes! Okay, leader, read you loud and clear!

Anon: Quest? You guys still do quests?

Joker: Not that sort of quest. We call our shopping excursions “quests”. Makes everyday life more interesting.

Anon: That’s cool! I should try that sometime.

Anon: Laundry becomes a timed quest.

Anon: Cleaning the bathroom becomes a quest where you try not to take status effects.

Anon: Eww, especially with brothers.

Anon: PREACH

Oracle: Not something I’ve ever had to deal with, thank God. Joker is as finicky as a cat about his hygiene.

Anon: Is he your brother?

Oracle: Not literally, but yes.

Joker: Your turn, little sister.

Oracle: Oh yeah! My role is a bit different to everyone else’s. I’m not suited to a combat role, but I’m amazing at sitting above the battlefield and buffing people up and providing intel.

Skull: She’s our skinny little nerd in a spaceship. It’s awesome

Oracle: I feel like I should whack you for that comment.

Skull: But it was a compliment!

Oracle: …yeah, okay. I’ll give you that.

Anon: Oracle has a SPACESHIP?!?!?!

Anon: Holy shit she’s even cooler now! #marryme

Oracle: Had, back in the Metaverse. And damn straight I’m cool!

Mona: I was the navigator for the team until Oracle joined us. We decided that it was better for her to guide so I could be freed up to fight on the front lines.

Panther: Though the change took a little bit of time for adjustment…

Mona: Yeah. Things were said that shouldn’t have been. SKULL.

Skull: Joker told you to lay off me!

Mona: Hmph.

Joker: Guys. We’ve worked through this. If we still need to talk about it, we can do it afterward over food.

Skull: Planning to start that curry any time soon?

Noir: Oh, yes! You did promise to make curry!

Joker: I should get that started.

Anon: Wait wait wait. Joker is kickass in the Metaverse thing, and he _cooks_?!

Anon: Talk about the perfect package!

Anon: You’ll make someone a good husbando, Joker.

Skull: Lay off, he’s already my wife.

Queen: Oh my God.

Joker: …Right, I’m gonna go make the curry. Yell if anything gets set on fire.

Skull: Have fun, darling!

Joker: Yes, dear ;-)

Oracle: Eww, flirting.

Fox: Noir, I believe it is your turn to discuss power sets.

Noir: Of course! My power set primarily focused on mental powers. We called them Psychic skills, or Psy for short.

Anon: So you thought them to death?

Noir: Essentially, yes! And when that didn’t work, I shot them!

Anon: HOLY SHIT

Anon: Noir is effin’ terrifying!

Panther: You didn’t hear her comments when we were working. Believe me, she’s ten pounds of scary in a five-pound bag.

Anon: Examples plz?

Oracle: “Why is it that I get a shiver of excitement whenever the Shadows plead for their lives?”

Anon: W H A T

Queen: “Cutting down the enemy as they approach…ah, what a thrill!”

Anon: ARE YOU SERIOUS

Skull: “The Shadows here are somewhat cute, aren’t they? It’s like they have…character!”

Anon: Why is that one scary?

Skull: One of the Shadows in question was a purple demon on a toilet.

Panther: Another was a massive group of snakes.

Anon: 0_0

Panther: “Combat must be my method of stress relief.”

Anon: JOKER SAVE US FROM NOIR

Joker: To be fair, Queen said something very similar to that last one once while we were working.

Noir: You all have such wonderful memories!

Fox: Those sorts of comments tend to stick in the mind, to be fair.

Queen: Especially when the person saying them wields an axe in battle.

Anon: JESUS CHRIST

Anon: Spare a thought for Joker wrangling all of these EFFIN’ TERRIFYING PEOPLE.

Anon: #ripjoker

Noir: Oh dear! No, I’d never lay a hand on Joker, or any of my teammates! We’ve all been through so much together; we are the family all of us lacked in our daily lives. I save my anger for the Shadows and horrible people, where it belongs.

Anon: Why does that weirdly reassure me?

Joker: We are a team, and even though the Metaverse is barred to us now, we still hold together as a family. So, I guess, don’t piss Noir off in real life by being a horrible person, and you’ll be just fine.

Anon: …you know, I almost prefer Noir’s style of saying scary things. At least she’s upfront about being scary.

Anon: I know what you mean!

Anon: Joker is subtly scary. Like a dagger in the ribs.

Joker: Funny you mention that. We all had weapons for direct melee and ranged combat when needed, and my melee weapon _was_ a dagger.

Anon: What was everyone else’s?

Anon: Skull had the lead pipe, remember? He mentioned.

Anon: Oh right!

Panther: Mine was a whip, and Mona’s was a sword. Like a cutlass.

Anon: …nope. Not gonna say the thing that will get me banned.

Oracle: I’m watching you.

Anon: *meep*

Fox: I wielded an elegant katana.

Anon: #dramaticfox

Anon: Wish we could have seen that!

Queen: I’ve trained in aikido, so I wore spiked gloves and punched Shadows.

Anon: THAT’S SO METAL

Anon: OMG MARRY ME

Anon: YAS QUEEN

Oracle: Everyone’s dying over that last one; that’s not the first time those exact words have been uttered. Queen is glaring at all of us.

Anon: #ripphantomthieves

Anon: Mom schooling everyone!

Queen: How am I the mom in this situation?

Fox: It is rather fitting, I must admit.

Noir: As the others pointed out, I use a large double-bladed axe as my weapon.

Skull: The thing is taller than she is, and super heavy. I have no idea how she wielded it so damn well.

Noir: It’s all a matter of practice!

Anon: And the trend of Noir being openly terrifying continues…

Anon: We never heard what Joker’s power set is.

Oracle: Heeheehee. Y’all gonna love this.

Joker: I have what’s known as the wild card ability. Basically, I can use all of the power sets.

Anon: Come again?

Anon: Whaaaaaa?

Joker: I think it’s time we talk about Personas, the missing puzzle piece to all of this. Assuming the Metaverse hadn’t been barred off, anyone could theoretically fall through into that world, if the right circumstances were met.

Anon: Which you won’t explain to us.

Oracle: In a word: duh.

Joker: But a normal person in the Metaverse wouldn’t be able to do much of anything besides be a normal person in a world where normal people aren’t meant to be. The key to becoming a Phantom Thief is the ability known as Persona. Basically, it’s the harnessing of your rage and turning it into a weapon to be used on those who deserve it.

Anon: HOLY SHIT

Anon: So when we say Noir thinks her enemies to death, that’s literal?

Joker: Essentially. We each went through a moment where we awakened to our powers, and we all had a Persona who worked alongside us. The Persona is the one with the skill sets; we just control the Persona. With me so far?

Anon: So when Fox says he wields the power of ice, what he ACTUALLY means is that his Persona is an ice-type Pokémon?

Oracle: Yeah, basically! Hold onto that metaphor, you’re going to need it in a sec.

Joker: Every Persona has its strengths and weaknesses. I began my journey with Arsene, whose power set was primarily dark magic. Each Phantom Thief had their own Persona, with a name based on a thief or antihero in popular culture. Zorro. Captain Kidd. Carmen. Goemon. You get the idea.

Queen: But Joker is special. One of the reasons he’s the leader.

Anon: Special? How?

Skull: All of us started with one Persona, and kept it throughout the journey. They evolved into a stronger version of that Persona as we became closer as a group.

Anon: So Magikarp evolving to Gyrados.

Anon: Ouch, Magikarp, dude? Talk about a USELESS Pokémon!

Anon: It’s not that bad if you know how to use it!

Anon: I can’t believe I’m hearing Pokémon references being made to actual abilities.

Joker: I had the ability to trap and create multiple Personas, each of them with their own power set and strengths and weaknesses. To borrow the Pokémon reference, I carried around a bunch of PokeBalls with different Personas inside each one.

Anon: HOLY SHIT

Anon: Actual Pokémon trainer Joker

Anon: How many could you carry at once?

Joker: At the height of my strength, twelve.

Anon: Which would make him the Avatar, able to wield all elements in balance.

Joker: Not QUITE…

Oracle: Yes! Yep! Absolutely! He’s TOTALLY Aang.

Joker: Am not.

Oracle: Are too.

Queen: Children, no bickering.

Oracle: *heavy sigh* Fiiiiiine

Joker: Anyway. It made my name very apropos, since the joker in a deck of cards can be any card it needs to be, and that is – was – essentially my power.

Anon: Was that not the reason you picked your name?

Anon: Sounds like the perfect reason for your name!

Joker: No, my name was based on my mask.

Admin: That’s actually the perfect segue into the next question, if I may?

Joker: Go for it. I need to go check the curry to make sure it doesn’t burn.

Admin: Question number 3! How did you guys come up with your code names? They’re all just so cool!

Panther: Aww! Thank you, whoever sent that question in!

Fox: Our code names were selected carefully to match both our masks in the Metaverse and our personalities.

Anon: So…are you sly like a fox?

Oracle: He’s more like an Inari fox. Which is why I call him Inari.

Oracle: [Pictures of Inari foxes]

Anon: I JUST DIED OF THE CUTE

Anon: ACTUALLY CUTIE PATOOTIE FOX

Fox: Oracle! I am elegant, not cute!

Oracle: Eh, you’re not bad.

Anon: I ship it.

Oracle: EWWWWWWW

Fox: I don’t understand.

Joker: Probably better to leave it there, Fox.

Fox: If you say so…

Joker: You guys never actually got around to answering the question. I walk away for one minute…

Panther: To be fair, it’s way more fun to just let Oracle and Fox go at it.

Skull: Aw man, I didn’t finish the popcorn in time. 😉😁

Joker: You two are no help at all.

Fox: I did point out that our names came from our masks and personalities.

Anon: But the only mask we’ve really seen is Joker’s!

Anon: Yeah!

Anon: I mean, we can GUESS that Fox and Skull have fox and skull masks…

Fox: Ah. I think I can be of assistance?

Queen: How?

Fox: I created portraits of each of us in our Thief costumes and masks.

Oracle: WHAT?!

Panther: You never told us!

Skull: That’s effin’ rad!

Queen: Oh my gosh, I might cry. They’re so beautiful.

Anon: Stop hoarding them! Let us see!

Anon: PLEASE?!?!

Anon: Yeah, I wanna see!!

Fox: Very well.

<http://vanalosswen.tumblr.com/post/175356910682/asuna00x-p5a%E3%82%AB%E3%82%A6%E3%83%B3%E3%83%88%E3%83%80%E3%82%A6%E3%83%B3%E3%81%BE%E3%81%A8%E3%82%81-%E3%82%A2%E3%83%8B%E3%83%A1%E4%BB%8A%E5%A4%9C%E3%81%8B%E3%82%89%E3%81%A7%E3%81%99%E3%81%AD%E6%A5%BD%E3%81%97%E3%81%BF%E3%81%A7%E3%81%99>

Anon: HOLY SHIT

Anon: Those are so beautiful!

Anon: Look at these beautiful children!

Joker: Fox. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Fox: How could I do less for the ones who inspired me and helped rescue me?

Panther: Okay, that’s it. Brb chat, must hug Fox.

Skull: I think we’re all right there with her.

Admin: And we’ve lost the Thieves for a moment.

Anon: Yeah, that’s fair.

Anon: Holy shit, just look at the detailing on these portraits.

Anon: Okay, so let’s talk masks.

Anon: Panther has a cat mask! That’s so precious!

Anon: Wonder why she didn’t go with something like Catgirl.

Anon: I like Panther as a name. Powerful and sexy, it’s great.

Anon: Skull’s is pretty easy. Damn nice mask!

Anon: Fox’s is easy, too.

Anon: His mask and outfit are very kabuki, I like!

Anon: I guess Joker’s mask looks like the old plays with the Harlequin? It’s more a domino mask than anything else. I would expect something that covers more of the face with that name.

Anon: I don’t get Noir’s at all.

Anon: Me neither. Or Oracle’s.

Anon: I would have thought Queen would be called Knight with that mask. Looks a lot like a helmet visor, you know?

Anon: Oh yeah, the jousting helmets!

Joker: Okay. We’re back. Sorry about the disappearance. We didn’t have any pictures of our outfits and masks before now, except for Shido’s calling card, and we couldn’t have a lot of detailing on that, for obvious reasons. Oracle took some pictures in the Metaverse, but nothing like these.

Queen: These portraits mean a lot to us, is what Joker is trying to say.

Oracle: I’m gonna get mine framed!

Skull: Yeah, I think we all are.

Joker: So I see there’s some discussion on names?

Anon: Why Queen?

Joker: Her mask put me in mind of a medieval theme, and her bearing is very queenly. It works when you take her whole self into consideration. 

Anon: And you’re okay with her being the ranking card in the deck?

Joker: I’m the Joker. The Joker can be whatever he needs to be, from the King on down to the sneaky ace.

Anon: Shiiiiit, that’s smooth!

Panther: Besides, we’re a democratic group. Joker tends to have the final say because he sits back and listens while we argue things out, and because he just...works as the leader. But we had a rule we put in place very early on that we all had to agree before doing things.

Skull: Which has definitely caused some problems, lemme tell you.

Fox: But never anything insurmountable, it must be said.

Noir: We were all working toward the same goal. We just had different ideas about how to get there.

Anon: What’s the story with your name, Noir?

Noir: Oh! When I joined the Thieves, I knew they were doing the right thing. The law is important, but sometimes there are people who the law can’t touch. The Thieves existed to help handle people like that.

Anon: The rich and the powerful get a different set of laws.

Anon: Eat the rich

Anon: Rude. We eat the rude.

Noir: Anyway, I knew this was where I belonged, even if it’s on the darker side of the law. I chose the name for myself as a reminder that I must be vigilant to stay on the side of good. Of hope. Of helping people. It would be too easy to use my power to hurt people, and I never want to do that.

Anon: With great power comes great responsibility, huh?

Noir: In essence, yes!

Oracle: And we love having her!

Noir: You’re so sweet!

Panther: It’s true, though.

Skull: Yeah, she’s scary, but she’s one of us, all the way.

Noir: You’re making me blush!

Anon: Oracle, beloved meme goblin!

Oracle: Dang. I came here to have a good time, and I just feel so attacked right now…

Fox: But no one is attacking you…?

Anon: It’s a meme, Fox, just roll with it.

Anon: Does Fox know what memes are…?

Oracle: He sort of gets the idea, but he’s a little too literal to get them.

Anon: What’s the story with your name, Oracle?

Oracle: I knew immediately I wasn’t made for combat. I’m a skinny nerd who stays up weird hours to take down corruption. That doesn’t do a whole lot for muscle tone. But my power set allowed me to see everything that was happening, and shift some odds around in our favor. So. Oracle. Because I see all.

Oracle: Besides, look at my mask. If we went with our usual naming practices, I’d get stuck with something like Mantis.

Anon: I WASN’T GONNA SAY IT

Anon: It’s very futuristic, tho!

Anon: I think your mask is cool!

Oracle: I think so too! I miss it, actually. It would be really handy to filter out some of the blue light from my monitors.

Anon: Monitors, plural.

Anon: That’s when you know you’re serious, OTL.

Anon: Can I ask a question that isn’t on the approved list?

Skull: You just did, lol

Anon: Hah! Gotcha!

Anon: Okay, okay, fair. But in all seriousness…what happened to Akechi-kun?

Anon: Oh yeah!

Anon: He sort of disappeared off the planet, didn’t he?!?!

Anon: One day he was all over the TV, the next…gone.

Anon: And he HATED the Phantoms.

Anon: Is that suspicious? It feels suspicious.

Anon: Like…how easy would it be to make him just disappear???

Anon: C’mon, that’s a bit far, isn’t it?

Anon: Why aren’t any of the PTs saying anything?

Joker: Guys. Give us a moment.

Anon: Shit, that IS suspicious

Anon: C’mon, the PTs wouldn’t kill someone. Not even Akechi-kun.

Anon: Are you SURE?

Anon: Yes! They only ever went after people who were hurting other people. Akechi-kun wasn’t hurting anyone.

Joker: Okay. Queen and I have banished the others from the chat for a bit. They’re a little hot under the collar about all of this.

Queen: To be honest, we’re angry about the whole situation as well. But we know how to control our tempers.

Anon: So what HAPPENED?!

Joker: Akechi-kun was the person in the black mask.

Queen: He had access to the Metaverse for two years before Joker awakened to his powers, access he used to kill people who got in his way.

Anon: Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!

Anon: No. No, there’s no way Akechi-kun was the murderer. He’s the new Detective Prince! He’s a good guy!

Joker: That was a mask he wore to get the world to love him. It’s easy to “solve” a murder you commit.

Anon: Shit, man.

Anon: That’s a really bold claim to make.

Joker: I know. That’s why Oracle is allowed back on the chat just long enough to send two pictures she took in the Metaverse.

Oracle: [Pictures of Akechi, one in his white costume and one in his black mask]

Oracle: He tried to kill Joker and would have pulled it off if we hadn’t seen through him.

Joker: Oracle. You promised.

Oracle: FINE.

Anon: OH MY GOD.

Anon: Too much information, holy shit. How are we supposed to process this?

Queen: We understand. It’s a lot to process; we had a lot more time, and we started off being suspicious of him because of how he was behaving.

Joker: It’s easy for someone to claim this is a fake. But I swear to you, everything we have said is true. And you guys know who I am. Not like I can fade into anonymity, as much as I’d like to.

Anon: so what happened to him

Joker: He died. While we were working on changing Shido’s heart. He turned back to the light at the last minute, came to help us, and a powerful Shadow in the Metaverse killed him.

Queen: We didn’t like him very much. But he still had the potential for good, and that got snuffed out before he had a chance to come back to us.

Joker: We grieve him, as someone who was briefly one of us.

Anon: But Oracle said he tried to kill you!

Joker: And almost succeeded. But we knew it was coming, and prepared accordingly. And that’s all I’ll say on that subject.

Admin: Okay, guys, I think we’re winding down now. If you have any last questions, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Anon: What are you guys going to do now?

Joker: I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want to go into details about our future plans.

Queen: We do need to graduate our various schools. It’s hardly a secret the Phantom Thieves are all in school of one sort or another.

Joker: But I can promise this: we won’t stop working for justice and to help the little guy. Even though we’re barred from the Metaverse. As Mona keeps reminding us, we shape the world by our beliefs and actions. So as long as people work to make good actions and beliefs outweigh the bad ones, the Phantom Thieves live on.

Anon: So we’re honorary Phantom Thieves?

Joker: Sure, if you like.

Anon: Yay!

Anon: Sweet!

Anon: We’ve been deputized!

Admin: And with that, I think we’re done with the AMA. Thank you to everyone for showing up and your thoughtful commentary. I appreciate not having to ban more than a couple people.

Anon: Tell the rest of the Thieves we say good luck!

Joker: They’re coming back on now to say goodbye, so you can tell them yourselves.

Panther: Joker is a meanie-pants.

Joker: Sometimes! Not like that’s new information.

Skull: Ugh. But I guess you’re right.

Joker: Say goodbye to the nice people, guys.

Skull: Okay, okay. Thanks, everyone! You’ve been…well, it’s been a trip.

Panther: Hopefully, we’ve helped allay some worries. Hope to see you guys doing some good out there!

Oracle: I mean, there’s 40,000 people on this, and I’ll bet anything it’s been screenshotted and will spread all over the Internet. So we’ll start to see it if you guys do good!

Fox: It has been an adventure. Thank you for coming along.

Mona: You guys are awesome! It’s been great, thanks so much!

Queen: Try to always question what you’re told. Adults aren’t always right just because they’re adults.

Noir: And remember to hold close to your people! We’re all stronger when we stick together!

Joker: Thank you, everyone. Keep up the good work, and don’t let people like Shido drag you around by the nose. Like Queen said, trust but verify.

Admin: And that’s our AMA! Have a good one, everyone!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

“Well,” Ren said, closing his laptop with an emphatic thump. “That went…well.”

“If you mean ‘it was a complete and utter damn train wreck’, then…” Futaba covered her face with both hands, letting out a massive sigh.

“I don’t think it was all that bad,” Ann offered, closing her laptop and sitting back in her seat. “Except for the Akechi thing, everyone was really on our side.”

“But he was everyone’s golden boy,” Makoto said quietly, wrapping an arm around Ren’s waist. He leaned against her with a sigh, resting his head on her shoulder. “So it makes sense that people would be a bit wary of what we had to say.”

“What the hell happened to ‘we won’t discuss our methods’?” Ryuji asked, still fuming over getting kicked out of the chat while his least favorite person was the subject of discussion.

“Turns out, it’s really hard to discuss the last year without talking about some of it,” Ren returned. He rubbed his face with the heel of his hand, shaking his head. “Except that last bit, did you guys have fun?”

“I thought it was delightful, actually,” Yusuke said. “The discussion allowed me to mentally return to the place where we began as a group.”

“I had a lot of fun,” Haru offered. “Our fans are really sweet people. I almost wish there was a way to take them into the Metaverse.”

“Pity we can’t go there, either,” Morgana said, the tip of his tail twitching. He gave Ren a meaningful look, and the leader of the Thieves winced internally. Right. He still needed to go speak with Igor. He’d been home for a week and still hadn’t made it to the last door leading to the Velvet Room.

Really, he could make all sorts of excuses for why he hadn’t gone, but Ren knew the truth. He didn’t want to go because it would truly be the last time he could be Joker in every sense. He sat up, squaring his shoulders as he huffed out a breath. But it was time. “I’ll be back in a bit, guys,” he said, slipping out of the booth. “I have one last thing I need to attend to.”

Makoto looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s time?”

“Mm, and past. I should have gone a while ago.”

“If you two are done being creepy cryptic…” Ann said, rolling her eyes.

“Makoto can explain, if she feels so inclined,” Ren replied, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. It was raining again, and he didn’t want to end up soaking wet. “Mishima, I’m heading for the train station, if you want company on the way?”

The admin of the Phansite jumped as if he’d been goosed, grabbing his laptop and sticking it in his messenger bag. “Yeah, yeah, that would be great.” He pulled his jacket on and paused, looking at the Phantom Thieves. “I know the ending of that AMA felt kinda off, but I think it went really well,” he offered. “And I’ll be working on the Phansite the next few days, getting people the information they need about Akechi and Shido and their connection.”

“You really think you can spin this?” Ryuji asked, getting up and leaning against the counter. “They were real suspicious, man.”

Mishima offered him a smile. “This is what I do, Sakamoto,” he said. “I’m your PR team. I’ll help them remember why they love the Phantom Thieves and send the official team off with a good memory.”

“You’re not so bad,” Futaba said, looking at him over the edge of her laptop. “It’s been fun!”

That got Mishima blushing bright red, and he ducked his head as he headed for the door at speed. “I’ll be back soon, guys,” Ren said with a smile as he followed the flustered admin, snagging his umbrella on the way out.

“Bring chocolate back with you!” Ann called after him.

“You said you wanted to cut back on the sugar,” Makoto reminded her as Ren pushed the door open.

“Yeah, but not cold turkey!”

Ren laughed to himself as he zipped his jacket up and walked out into the cold, rainy evening. He flinched as the rain poured down on him, pulling his hood up to cover his head before opening his umbrella. He was already struggling with that cough; he didn’t need to make it worse. And, while he’d never mention this to his teammates, he had a bit of a phobia of the rain now. He didn’t like it touching his skin.

Mishima had stopped a little way down from Leblanc, waiting for Ren. “They’re not what I expected,” the admin said thoughtfully when Ren caught up with him.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Ren asked, slipping his free hand into his jeans pockets and walking alongside his friend toward the train station.

“I don’t know,” Mishima admitted. “They’re…wild. Silly.”

“Dramatic,” Ren added dryly. “The fact that Yusuke stands out as the most dramatic among us is astonishing.”

Mishima grinned at that, nodding. “I guess I think it’s weird that you guys are all just…teenagers.”

“We’ve always been just teenagers,” Ren said mildly. “Teenagers who were given access to a power plug of the universe, and did our best to handle the power responsibly.” He sighed. “We made bad calls sometimes because we’re kids. But we always did our best.”

“I think you did pretty good,” Mishima offered softly. “You were there to save the world, and you were ready for it.”

“No one is ever ready to face down a literal god that’s around a hundred times our size,” Ren said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we were as prepared as we could be.” He shrugged. “No one except those closest to me knows what happened that day. I think…I think that’s for the best. If people remembered what Shibuya turned into…” He shivered, then looked at Mishima as a thought occurred to him. “Hey. I haven’t really checked in with you since…well. Everything. How are you doing? Any nightmares or anything?”

Mishima looked down at the stones under their feet as he shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean, I guess. It’s nothing too bad, though, I’m fine.”

“I have nightmares,” Ren said quietly. “Almost every night. There’s been a few times when I’ve had night terrors and woken up screaming my head off.” It was easier to admit something like that to Mishima as a way to help draw him out of his shell; he recognized the signs of someone hiding their trauma in an effort to seem all right. He saw it every day in himself.

Mishima looked up at him, his eyes wide. “You? Really?”

“Me,” Ren agreed. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me about it, if that’s not comfortable for you. But talk to someone? It’ll help.”

“I…” Mishima blew out a breath, kicking a small stone. “I’ll think about that. Thanks, Ren. That means a lot.”

“Of course, Yuuki,” Ren replied, lightly tapping Mishima’s shoulder with his fist. “You’re my friend. I watch out for my friends, as much as I possibly can.”

The conversation switched to lighter topics after that as they walked into the train station and boarded the train to Shibuya Central. They parted ways outside the train station, Mishima waving over his shoulder as he splashed off towards his home.

Ren lingered for a moment, looking around and breathing in the night. It was quiet, with the rain driving everyone inside. He relished the quiet, especially after the hustle and bustle of the last few days. Exhaling slowly, he made his way to the alleyway that housed Iwai’s shop and the final Velvet Room door available to him.

Lavenza was waiting outside patiently, her golden eyes scanning the area. She smiled when she saw Ren. “I was beginning to think you would not come,” she said, her light voice filled with warm teasing. “Come. My master awaits.” She opened the door and stepped aside, letting him in.

“My apologies for the delay,” Ren said as he stepped through the door. “And that you had to wait in the rain.”

“That’s quite all right,” Lavenza replied as she followed him inside. “The rain does not affect me.”

“Lucky,” Ren muttered as his clothing morphed on his body. After months of experiencing the shift, it was second nature to him now. But he took a moment to really feel the sensations of the cloth shifting on his body, going from his comfortable jeans and hoodie and jacket to the sweeping coat and fitted waistcoat. He knew down to his core that this was likely the last time he would ever feel that sensation. He closed his eyes as a strange sense of grief swept through him.

“Welcome back, Joker,” Igor said from across the room when Ren had gotten a hold of himself and stepped into the main room.

This was the first time Igor had called him anything other than “Trickster” and it was an odd sensation. “Ah,” Ren replied, caught off-guard. Then he cleared his throat and stood up straight, bowing slightly. “Thank you, Igor. My apologies for the delay.”

“Adjusting to a world outside the walls and bars is difficult, and takes time,” Igor murmured. “I am outside of time; the delay was inconsequential.”

He _really_ wanted to know what Igor was, and he almost opened his mouth to ask. Only a well-honed sense of self-preservation stopped him; if Igor was as powerful as he indicated, he could mop the floor with Ren with no more than a thought. Instead, Ren sat in the chair provided to him and crossed one ankle onto his opposite knee. He wasn’t in pain here, and he relished the relief.

“Now, then,” Igor murmured, watching Ren over his folded hands. “You asked what service you could perform for me.”

Ren inclined his head in agreement.

“You have done all I could ask, and more. As I said, your time as Trickster is done. However…” Igor opened a hand, gesturing Ren closer with a crook of his finger.

Standing gracefully, Ren walked across the room to stand before the old man’s desk. Igor examined him from under his brows for a long moment. Then he opened both hands in front of himself, a blue light glowing in his palms. It was bright, bright enough to make Ren wince instinctively. But the teenager held fast, looking into the light through squinted, watering eyes.

After a few seconds, the light solidified into a locket, its chain hanging from Igor’s hand as the old man turned it over and over in his hands. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw, Igor put the locket into Ren’s hand, his gloved fingertip brushing against Ren’s gloved palm. As the two layers of fabric touched, a spark of power blossomed, crackling through the room like a ball of lightning. Ren gasped as the power filled him, the electricity running through his veins and standing every hair on his body on end. It didn’t hurt; if anything, it was exhilarating to feel that power soaking into him.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, the power dissipated, and Ren blinked the spots out of his vision. Then he looked at the locket in his hand. It was blue and gold, the colors of the Velvet Room, with the initials “VR” etched into the front in a flowery font. “What is this, sir?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.

“You may never need it,” Igor said with a low chuckle. “Your life will almost certainly fall back into its predictable patterns as you return to a normal life. But you asked after my welfare and offered your assistance. No Trickster before you has done so. Your heart is truly compassionate, to ask after an old man you barely know. That locket is a wish, a single wish, to be used only once. If you have need of a boon that will tip the scales in your favor, you have only to hold the locket and make the wish.”

Ren stared down at the locket in his hand, completely flabbergasted by the gift. “I…thank you…this…” He couldn’t seem to form a sentence, especially in the wake of that full body shock. He cleared his throat and took a step back, bowing deeply. “Thank you,” he said. “I hope I never have a need so great that I must use such a boon, but if it is necessary, I will call on you.”

Igor smiled, looking up at Ren with his bulbous eyes. “Good,” he said. “Go forth and find your path, Joker. I will be watching with interest.”

Bowing again, Ren turned away, holding the locket tightly in his hand. Lavenza was standing by the door leading back to Shibuya, holding her book and smiling up at him. “A rare boon, for a rare man,” she said softly. “Be well, Joker.”

Impulsively, Ren bent and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for everything,” he said softly. “Be well.”

Lavenza reached up, touching her cheek with a surprised expression. Then she smiled slowly, nodding. Beckoning him closer, she raised a hand in front of his face. A blue butterfly appeared, sitting on her white-gloved fingertips. Looking up at him, Lavenza murmured, “Relish the time with your friends,” as the butterfly flew from her hand to his forehead and another wash of power filled him. This power was more like warm syrup oozing through his body, filling him with an overwhelming sense of peace.

“Thank you,” Ren said softly when she pulled her hand away. He couldn’t find anything better to say, so he straightened and bowed deeply to both Lavenza and Igor before taking his leave.

The shift back into his ordinary clothing was much faster this time, barely a split-second long. He sighed as he opened his umbrella again and turned to look at the spot where the door had been. As he expected, it was gone, leaving nothing but a blank wall, and he felt an unexpected pang deep in his gut. He hadn’t had time to get to know Igor and Lavenza. But the false Igor, along with Caroline and Justine, had been his guides for months. He would miss that world, terribly.

He looked down at his clenched fist and opened it. The locket glowed in his bare palm, as beautiful as it had been in the Velvet Room. He slipped it into his pocket, resolving to put it on later when the rain and his umbrella didn’t hamper him. Then he paused, frowning as he carefully rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t taken a good pain pill before the AMA, knowing he needed his wits about him. So he’d expected to have the pain come crashing down on him again as soon as he stepped out of the Velvet Room.

That…wasn’t happening. He pressed a hand against his damaged ribs, poking firmly to see what was going on. “Oh my God,” he murmured as he checked himself over.

All of the pain was gone. He felt light and airy, like he’d just been freed from a million pounds of chains that had been attached all over his body. Had it been Igor’s shocking power, or Lavenza’s soft warmth that cured him? He didn’t know, but either way, he was whole again.

Breaking into a grin, Ren took off running for the train station. He _had_ to tell the others what had just happened.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Makoto knew something was different about Ren the moment he came through the door. It was more than the grin that stretched from ear to ear, more than the sudden bounce in his step, even more than the light in his eyes. He’d been withdrawn since coming back from prison, as if he had to ask for permission to exist in the world he used to inhabit as easily as a hermit crab inhabited its shell. Now, as he came jangling through the door, he radiated presence and confidence.

All conversation stopped as the Thieves and Sojiro turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What’s got sunshine flooding out your ass?” Ryuji asked, grinning in spite of himself.

Ren laughed, and it was the laugh Makoto had first heard from him months ago, before the interrogation room and the isolation cell. It was filled with pure joy and delight, and her eyes filled with delighted tears as she clasped her hands to her chest.

“I went back to the Velvet Room,” Ren said, grabbing one of the tall chairs and spinning it around to sit backwards in it so he could look at his teammates. “And they healed me, completely.”

“No way!” Morgana exclaimed, jumping up onto the seat next to Ren’s. He reached out with a paw and poked Ren’s rib. “Wow…man, you should have gone to see them right away!”

“Oh believe me, I’m kicking myself for not doing exactly that,” Ren agreed, scratching behind Morgana’s ears.

“So you’re all better now?” Ann asked, her eyes wide in astonishment. “I thought we couldn’t access the Metaverse anymore.”

“The Velvet Room has always been…special. Different.” Ren shrugged. “I can’t go back there anymore, either. This was me saying goodbye to them.” He got out of the chair and plopped into the booth next to Makoto. “So! What’d I miss?”

“Dinner’s about ready,” Sojiro grunted, looking at Ren over the rim of his glasses with a fond little smile.

“We were just decompressing after the AMA,” Haru said with a beaming smile. “We’re all feeling a little better about it now.”

As Ren listened, he rested a hand on Makoto’s thigh. She could feel the heat radiating into her through her black pants, filling her with a sort of breathless anticipation. It had been two months since the last time they’d been able to properly do anything, between his time in prison and the week he’d spent recovering. She hadn’t been pushing for anything besides the near-constant touch he seemed to need as well, mostly because she didn’t want to hurt him.

But he was healed now. Healed, and running his fingernails up and down her thigh in a very provocative sort of way.

She made it through dinner somehow, though Yusuke remarked on her unusual flush in passing. She couldn’t remember a word of what anyone said, and she cleaned her plate as fast as she could to try and encourage people to leave, just _go_.

When dinner was done, Ann remarked on the time and the need to catch the train. Haru offered everyone a ride home (because mass transit in the rain was always unpleasant), and said they should head out because they all needed some time to recover after that AMA. God bless Haru.

Sojiro glanced at his ward, who was now standing very innocently next to the sink, and shook his head in amusement. “Futaba, we should get going,” he said. “You need some sleep, too.”

While Futaba whined her way through getting her stuff collected, Makoto saw Ren bend to talk quietly with Morgana. The cat looked up at him, nodding a couple times, and Makoto swore Morgana glanced at her once. Then he jumped off the chair and trotted over to Futaba as Ren straightened. “C’mon, let’s get back to yours,” he said, pawing at Futaba’s leg. “I’m tired, even if you aren’t.”

“Oh, you’re staying with me tonight?” Futaba asked, surprised. Then she looked between Makoto and Ren. Makoto got up, leaning against the divider between booths and smiling at Futaba reassuringly. She could feel an electric wire stretching between herself and Ren, crackling with anticipation. Futaba must have seen something similar, because she said, “ _Ohhh_. Yeah, let’s get going. Sojiro!” And with that, she scooped Morgana up and scampered to the door, the bell jingling as she left.

“Make sure to lock up,” Sojiro said as he put his jacket on.

“Of course,” Ren agreed, following the older man to the door so he could lock it behind him.

The sound of the deadbolt sliding home was electric, filling the air with crackling potential. Then Ren turned to look at Makoto. He’d done a good job of keeping himself on a leash since getting back from the Velvet Room, but they were alone now. The heat and need in his eyes made her knees weak, and she reached out, supporting herself with a hand on the divider by her hip.

Ren smiled at her, that cocksure smile that was pure mischief. Then he was _moving_ , crossing the room with that athletic grace and speed that characterized every movement of his when he wasn’t hurt. Makoto caught her breath and stood up straight, every cell of her body alert and ready for his touch.

He didn’t say a word; words were extraneous at the moment. She heard everything she needed in the way he cupped her face as he kissed her deeply. A soft moan escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush against his as she returned the kiss.

Ren let his hands slide down her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as he drank her in. They’d kissed many times since he came back, but this was different, and they both knew it. Bending his knees a little, he transferred his grip to the backs of her thighs and picked her up, not breaking the kiss for a second as he carried her to the stairs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, creating some truly distracting friction for a second as she rubbed up against him.

“Damn,” Ren breathed against her mouth before catching her lower lip between his teeth and nipping softly.

“If you don’t get us upstairs this minute, I will knock your ass on the floor and take you here,” Makoto threatened, her voice wobbling a little. Her legs tightened around him as she shifted her hips restlessly, and he moaned.

“I live to serve, my Queen,” he purred, looking up into her eyes as he transferred a hand to her ass and squeezed gently. Then he turned them, starting up the stairs as fast as he could possibly manage while carrying his girlfriend. It would have been a lot faster, but she decided she was absolutely fascinated by his earlobe and had to suck it into her mouth, which made him a little weak in the knees.

Still, he finally made it upstairs and to the bed. She started to unhook her legs from his waist, but he shook his head. “Let me,” he murmured, sinking to his knees next to the bed and gently placing her on the mattress.

The rain had stopped outside, and there was enough of a gap in the cloud cover to allow a sliver of moonlight through the window. Ren looked up at Makoto, his face bathed in the soft light, and smiled as he gently took the headband out of her hair. She snorted softly, shaking her head as she brushed his hair aside and took his glasses off. The moment felt ethereal, as if they were floating in a perfectly peaceful pool.

Then his smile turned devious as he slid his fingers into her hair, grabbed a good handful, and pulled her head back. She gasped, letting out a long moan as Ren leaned up to latch onto her neck.

They’d learned a lot together, experimenting and figuring out what worked for them. Makoto _really_ liked having her hair pulled; it was something that reduced her to a quivering puddle most of the time. “Not fair,” she gasped as she arched up into Ren’s mouth. “Come on…”

Ren kissed the spot he’d been sucking on, smiling up at her. “What’s the magic word?” he purred.

“Ren! Please, God! At least get me naked first!”

He laughed softly, kissing down her neck. Then he relented a little and released her hair, going for her buttons. She squeezed her legs around him, scooting closer as she pulled his hoodie down his arms and tossed it away.

Getting naked took longer than usual. Makoto’s hands were shaking with nerves and eagerness as she pulled his clothes off; that would have been embarrassing, except she could feel his hands shaking as well. But they did manage at last, kneeling across from each other on the bed. Ren reached out, running his fingers down her arm. After so long apart, he still had a hard time believing she was really there.

She smiled at him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I’m here,” she said softly, echoing the reassurance she knew he needed. “Let me prove it.” She tugged firmly on his hand, pulling him to her and wrestling him down onto the bed as he laughed and playfully struggled against her.

“Hah!” she crowed as she straddled his stomach and pumped her fists in victory. “I win!”

“You always win with me,” Ren returned, smoothing his hands up her body. She shivered, bending over and resting her hands on the bed on either side of his head. He smiled at her, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “So claim your prize,” he purred, leaning up and kissing her.

They knew the rhythm of their dance pretty well by now; they’d danced it often enough to be comfortable with the steps. Ren helped support her as she shifted down his body, his strong hands wrapped around her hips and lifting her into place. They moaned in perfect unison as he slid inside her, the slow press and glide driving both of them insane. She took a second to recover herself when he bottomed out inside her, well aware that one or both of them might explode if she moved too soon.

When she thought she had a handle on the situation, she started moving, throwing her head back in ecstasy. Ren braced his feet on the bed, matching her rhythm as he stared up at her in awe. She was so beautiful, and she was real. He had his hands on her hips, helping lift her while letting her control the speed, and he couldn’t get over the sensation of holding her, of being such a part of her, and being safe and free to enjoy her trembles and moans.

Neither of them lasted very long, after such a long time without. She cried out, a sharp yelp of delight that was so acute it was almost painful, and he groaned deep in his chest as she squeezed his orgasm out of him.

Makoto collapsed on top of him, shaking as she came down from her peak, and he buried his face in her hair as he clung to her. “Oh…” he managed, his eyes filled with tears of the purest delight. “Mako… Love you.”

“Love you,” she panted in his ear, pressing sloppy kisses anywhere she could reach. “God, I love you.”

Ren stroked her skin with shaking fingers, relearning every inch of her body as they slowly relaxed into languid touches and soft kisses. He was really here. He was safe. Makoto loved him, and he loved her. That knowledge settled deep into his core, radiating like the power that flooded him in the Velvet Room. It was enough. He’d followed his lifeline home, and found his way back to the place where he belonged.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the soft silence surrounding them. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Makoto murmured back, propping herself on her elbows so she could look at him. “Thank you, for everything.”

He smiled and ran the pad of his thumb along her high cheekbone, down to her kiss-reddened lips. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and smiling. “I’m going to miss this, when you have to go home.”

“Me too,” Ren agreed, stroking her cheekbone and drawing her down for a kiss. “Which means we’ll have to make up for lost time whenever we can.”

Makoto opened her eyes as she chuckled at him. “Good excuse,” she teased.

“My darling, I never need an excuse to drive you into screaming ecstasy,” Ren returned, his voice a low rumble of aroused amusement. “I just need a reason.”

“Oh? And what reason would you accept for such a task?” She was grinning from ear to ear as she ran her fingers through his unruly hair.

“The simplest reason of all,” Ren purred. He wrapped his arms around her waist and arched his back, rolling both of them over so she was on her back. “Watching your eyes roll back in pleasure as I drive you slowly insane.”

“Cheater,” Makoto gasped, flushing as the movement reminded her that he was still buried inside of her. “That was…underhanded of you.”

“Once a Phantom Thief, always a Phantom Thief,” Ren replied before giving her a lingering kiss. He was already well on his way to aroused again, his body thrumming with need. “I always cheat, just a little, to steal my Queen’s heart.”

“You don’t have to steal anything, my fair Joker,” Makoto returned, slipping her hand into his hair and tugging gently. “You never have to steal what has already been given freely.”

Ren groaned softly, leaning into her hand. “I’m so damn lucky,” he murmured.

“I’d say we’re both pretty damn lucky,” Makoto agreed. She rolled her hips, a wonderfully fluid movement that had Ren clutching at the sheets under her head. “Why don’t you show me how lucky we are?”

Ren grinned. “But of course,” he murmured, kissing her again.

He was more than happy to take his time exploring his love and showing her exactly how much he loved her with touch and taste and soft little gasps. She returned the favor, late into the night, until they were collapsed on top of each other, sated and exhausted and too tired to move.

Exchanging soft kisses and exhausted breaths, the two of them eventually fell asleep, so tangled in each other that it was hard to make out where one began and the other ended. Which, Ren decided with a sleepy smile, was exactly how it should be.


End file.
